


The Reunion

by katelusive



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: AU where they all grew up together, Excessive Banter, Harry is the barefoot hippie supermodel we deserve, Hospital Visit, M/M, hot dudes makin' out, lots of feelings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-23
Updated: 2016-05-31
Packaged: 2018-06-10 06:03:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 19,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6942724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katelusive/pseuds/katelusive
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Liam's a single dad working at his best friend's bar, just trying to make a good life for his daughter.  He's a good person, okay?  The last thing on his mind is romance.  So when his super hot, super famous ex-boyfriend Zayn shows up out of nowhere for their high school reunion, Liam's not worried at all.  Nope . . . not one bit . . .</p><p>(Or, the one where Zayn's an unrepentant flirt, Niall's a good friend, Harry and Lou may or may not be disgustingly engaged, and Liam really, really needs to work on his communication issues.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Reunion

To tell the truth, Liam hadn’t even wanted to go. For one, he’d be the only one of his friends there. What was the point of going to a high school reunion without your friends?  Harry and Louis were spending the weekend at some fancy yoga resort, saluting the sun and getting papaya strips laid over their eyes. As funny as it was to imagine Louis in swan pose, Liam couldn’t expect any reunion support from them.

Worse still, Niall had pretended he was going to come, and then backed out at the last minute. _Emergency at the bar_. Yeah right. The emergency was that he’d realized how boring it was going to be and needed an out.

Liam had almost talked himself into staying home. It was a silly idea, he was tired, the baby was still a little sick – but there was his mum, shifting Layla to her hip as she adjusted Liam’s collar one-handed. 

“You’ll have fun,” she said, in a voice that left no room for protest. “Go on. Have a good time. Let loose.” Layla, who had decided awhile ago that three years old was far too old to be held, tried to squirm out of her grandmother’s arms. Her stuffed elephant was thrown to the ground in the process. 

“Mr. Teddy!” she yelled, reaching for him.

“I’m not letting loose,” said Liam, picking up his daughter’s stuffed elephant and handing it to her. “I’m – I’ll only be gone a few hours.”

“Daddy!”

“Be good for grammy,” said Liam, kissing her on the cheek.

“We’re gonna watch Dora,” Layla announced, subdued, voice muffled by the sticky threadbare elephant ear currently jammed in her mouth.

“Sounds like an action-packed evening,” said Liam, loitering in the doorway. “Mum, are you sure you’ll be –“ 

“We’ll be fine, just go,” said Karen.

“I’ll have my phone on, call me if you –“ 

“Have fun, sweetheart,” she said.  She was closing the door on him, gently, lovingly. “Bye! Say, bye daddy!”

“Bye daddy!” Layla shrieked. The door closed with a snick.

Liam sighed. 

He hadn’t even wanted to go. And yet, here he was, in his old high school gymnasium, with a tacky banner hung over his head and a watery gin and tonic in his hand. His old classmates milled around, making awkward conversation. There was altogether too much tinsel. However, none of those things had to do with the reason Liam suddenly felt like he might pass out.

Out of everything he expected tonight – awkward hugs, bad appetizers, endless retelling of stories best left in the past – seeing Zayn Malik was _not_ one of them.

He was at the appetizers table, looking casually over the crowd. Thin wrists and long, delicate fingers and mouth quirked in a smile that couldn’t decide if it wanted to be sardonic or amused. Liam would know him anywhere.

Liam’s heart raced and the ice cubes rattled in his gross drink. He took a fortifying sip – it didn’t help, obviously, but it was instinctual – and tried to plaster a normal-person smile on his face. Zayn had already seen him and was heading his way. Liam swallowed, trying to remember how to regulate body functions like breathing.

“Hey,” he said over a bad, bass-heavy remix of some mid-2000s pop song.

“Hey yourself,” said Zayn, with a hint of the grin Liam remembered so well. His heart beat even quicker. He wasn’t doing so well with the whole body-functions-regulation thing. But it wasn’t his fault – Zayn looked _good._  

He always looked good – Liam remembered, a little too vividly, his dark long-lashed eyes sparkling with trouble in the way that quickened Liam’s pulse – but ten years had transformed him.

He wasn’t a schoolboy anymore. Well, none of them were. But Zayn was a fucking superstar, and he looked the part. Black shirt open at the collar, tight, tailored pants that fit him far too well, and shiny hair – much longer than he’d had it at school – swept casually over one eye.

His eyes were the same, though. Still gleaming with vague amusement, the promise of mischief. Liam swallowed hard.

“You look great,” said Zayn, giving Liam a once-over. He gestured at the drink in Liam’s hand. “What are you having?”

“Uh, gin and tonic. I think.  It’s – terrible.”

Zayn made a face. “Yeah, they didn’t reach past the bottom shelf for this, did they? Well, I don’t know what we expected from the old alma mater.”

“This is almost exactly what I was expecting,” Liam admitted with a laugh, surprising himself. “Except – you. I didn’t think you’d be here.”

“Me either,” said Zayn, laughing too. He was standing close to Liam, close enough that Liam could smell his cologne, something dark and complex. “I was nearby, though, shooting a video, and I thought – why not?”

He smiled up at Liam. _Why not?_ Liam swallowed again, hard. This was a little too much. It was Zayn. He may be older, sharper around the edges, a little tired around the corners of his eyes. He may be roughly five million times more famous. But it was the same Zayn who used to press Liam up against the broken copy machine in the back room of the library and drag hot kisses down his throat, saying “Shh, shh.” 

It was the same Zayn who used to pass him notes in English class, lever little drawings to make him laugh. It was the same Zayn who took Liam’s virginity, one soft rainy night when his parents weren’t home, fumbled hands and muffled gasps and whispered words of love that Liam had really, truly meant.

It was the same Zayn who Liam hadn’t seen or spoken to in almost a decade. Liam had about five thousand things he wanted to say.

“It’s nice to see you,” he said instead. A few of their classmates were staring, elbowing each other – “That’s _Zayn Malik_ ,” they were probably saying, “you know, the singer –“ but Zayn didn’t seem to notice. 

“Likewise,” he said, playing with his own drink. “I didn’t think you’d be here.” He opened and closed his mouth, like he was going to say something else, and his cheeks flushed a cute rosy pink. Liam wondered why he didn’t have any security guards. Weren’t famous people supposed to have security guards or something?

“Me either,” said Liam, unable to stop tracing the curves of Zayn’s cheeks with his eyes. “It was my mum. Practically shoved me out the door. Says I need to get out more.”

Zayn laughed. “Business as usual.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” said Liam, grinning in spite of himself. Zayn looked up at him through his lashes, coy and lovely.

“So – what are you up to nowadays?” 

“Um,” said Liam, and what _was_ he up to nowadays? Watching Dora the Explorer repeats with Layla, working ten-hour shifts at the bar, writing shitty heartfelt songs when he could squeeze in a moment to himself? He felt suddenly ashamed of his life, inadequate and squirmy in front of this new, sparkly and mysterious version of Zayn.

There was only one thing he was proud of. “Well, I – I have a daughter now. Layla. She’s almost three.” 

He avoided Zayn’s eyes, fumbling for the photo he kept in his wallet. It was one of his favorites – Lay in a little bunny suit last Halloween, proudly holding up a tiny pumpkin that their next-door neighbor had given her. Zayn took the picture gently. 

“She looks like you,” he said finally, eyes turning up to meet Liam’s. “It’s in the smile. She’s – beautiful.”

Liam grinned proudly, unable to help himself. “She’s dead clever, too. Only two and she’s talking in full sentences, remembers everything you say and repeats it right back to you – she’s a handful. A thousand times smarter than me. Takes after her mum.” 

“Oh, is that so?” Zayn was still smiling a little, but Liam thought he caught a weird flicker in the back of his eyes.

“We’re not together, though,” he said quickly, not sure why he was bothering to specify. Did it matter? Why was his heart still pounding so hard? “Me and Layla’s mum, I mean. We split pretty soon after she was born. She, um, doesn’t live here anymore.” 

“I’m sorry to hear that,” said Zayn, eyes unreadable. He handed the photo back to Liam. “Layla’s incredible. Honestly. I’m really happy for you, Leeyum.”

“Thanks.” Liam’s throat constricted a little at the way Zayn said his name – dragging it out, emphasizing the split between the vowels, the way he always had when they were kids. The way he had when – Liam gave his head a little shake to stop that train of thought. “So how are you? How’s life in the music world?”

It was a ridiculous question to ask someone whose every public appearance was over-reported and picked apart on major entertainment news outlets, but Zayn didn’t seen to mind. 

“Great,” he said, with a genuine smile. “Awesome, actually. I’ve just finished my album. We’re dropping it next month. But it’s a surprise. Don’t tell anyone.” He paused, biting his lower lip. “I probably shouldn’t even have told you. Shit.” 

“My lips are sealed,” said Liam. “Want me to sign one of those secrecy contracts?”

“No,” said Zayn, and he was really smiling now. “I trust you.”

“You never know,” Liam pressed, chasing that smile. “Maybe this is all an elaborate set-up. I’m really a gossip columnist, sent here to learn your secrets. Your surprise album plans are toast.”

“You would make the worst gossip columnist ever,” said Zayn honestly. “That’s like if I became a math teacher. Or a garbage truck driver.”

“I’m renowned in my field,” Liam informed him. “Next, I’m going to trick you into revealing all the juicy details of your love life.” 

“Oh really? And how are you planning to do that?”

“I’ve got my ways,” said Liam mysteriously. “Spying.  Asking you nicely, when the spying doesn't work out.” 

Zayn burst out laughing, that goofy bark of surprised laughter that Liam couldn't believe he'd forgotten about. “Okay, ask me nicely about my juicy love secrets.”

Liam cleared his throat, trying to sound official. “Zayn, care to share your juicy love secrets with the press?”

“No,” said Zayn right away, still smiling. “I’m not dating right now, so I don’t have any.”

“Oh, you’re not – you’re not seeing anyone?” Liam’s pulse quickened for no good reason. He sounded way to eager. He needed to put a lid on it. Was this really what his life had come to? One conversation with his ex of _ten years_ had him sweaty-palmed and making embarrassing, dumbass jokes? He had no excuse for this kind of behavior.

“No,” said Zayn, tilting his face up so their eyes met. He reached past Liam to set his drink down on the table, cool and deliberate, and on the way back his fingers brushed against Liam’s bare wrist. “I’m not.” 

“Oh,” said Liam very loudly. His voice sounded forced and awkward in his own ears. Suddenly the music seemed overpowering, I Will Wait with its jangling soulful banjo turned up to five million decibels. 

Zayn wrinkled his nose, right on cue. “God, I hate this song.” 

“Me too,” said Liam right away, grateful for the subject change. “It’s the worst. I mean, it’s bad enough that it’s on the radio all the time, but do they really have to make these awful remixes? It’s – ridiculous. I’m rambling.” 

Zayn was smiling, biting his lower lip. “Listen, do you wanna get out of here? I’m sure we can find a better place to catch up than – whatever this is supposed to be.” He gestured around at the sagging crepe paper, the faded _Go Lions!_ sign on the walls, their blank-faced classmates getting drunk enough to force nostalgic laughter over things that hadn’t even been funny ten years ago.

 _No_ , screamed the voice in Liam’s head. _It’s a bad idea, you’re going to embarrass yourself even more, and some things are better left in the past –_

“Sure,” he said, dropping his almost-full glass on the table next to Zayn’s. He didn’t need the gin, already half-drunk on the thought of where they might go, on that familiar glint in Zayn’s eye that he’d almost, _almost_ managed to forget. “Let’s go.”

 

*

 

Zayn was, unsurprisingly, staying at the nicest hotel in their small town. It was also the hotel they’d checked into on prom night and ended up not even making it to the dance at all.

The bar was exactly as Liam remembered it, although he probably hadn’t set foot in the place for a decade. The bartender brought him a double whiskey, and something with a lime twist for Zayn.

“So,” said Zayn, swirling the liquid in his glass. “Tell me something.”

“Anything?”

“I haven’t seen you in years,” said Zayn. “I feel like we have a lot to catch up on.” 

“You’re the one with the exciting life,” said Liam. “Seriously. There’s not much to tell.”

“Well, you guys got the bar,” said Zayn. “That’s something. When did that happen?”

“Couple years ago. Me and Niall got it together, really. Louis bought in too. We only just started making enough to hire an actual staff.” He laughed, and so did Zayn.

“That’s really something,” said Zayn, and his smile was so fond. “God. So you’re all still here.”

“Yep,” Liam confirmed. “Well, except for Harry.”

“Yeah, he does modeling, I’ve seen that.” Zayn paused, like he might say something else, and then grinned. “He’s good.”

“He’s a menace who forgets what time zone he’s in and tries to call me at 3am,” said Liam. “But he gives me free fancy clothes that I never wear. So it’s all good.” 

Zayn laughed. “So he’s still got a house here?” 

“Yeah, but he’s never around. We see him a few times a month, I guess. He always comes into the bar to goof off and distract us.”

“You always used to talk about buying the bar,” Zayn mused. “And you really did it. That’s amazing.”

“It’s Niall’s bar, really,” said Liam. “He’s the only one of us who knows anything about owning a business. I mean, I can’t bartend for shit. I mostly wait tables, or stand around and look menacing if anyone gets out of line. Louis makes drinks sometimes, when we can actually get him to come to work.”

Zayn listenined with a smile, eyes impossibly fond in a way that makes Liam’s breath catch in his throat. Damn, he really had to get it together. It was hard with Zayn’s eyes locked on his, holding his gaze for a few terrifying seconds. Before he could help himself, he remembered what Zayn looked like beneath him, eyes fluttering closed with pleasure, lips full and bitten. 

“I missed you, you know,” Zayn was saying. He stopped short with a crooked little smile. “You guys, I mean. The lads.”

 _I missed you too,_ Liam wanted to say. Instead he forced a smile. 

“How long are you in town?”

“Just tonight,” said Zayn. His voice was soft, almost regretful. “I can’t believe it’s been so long since I’ve seen you.”

“You could stay a few days,” Liam blurted out helplessly, immediately kicking himself for sounding so desperate. “I mean, if you wanted to see everyone. Tommo will be pissed if he misses you.”

Zayn took a sip of his drink. “I would if I could. But my flight leaves in the morning. I’m supposed to be in LA tomorrow.”

“Oh,” said Liam. “Right. You A-listers and your busy schedules.”

Why did he feel so melancholy about Zayn leaving? He’d gone ten years without seeing the guy. It was probably just the alcohol clouding his judgment, making him feel all nostalgic and sentimental. “Well, I guess you should get to sleep then.” He took out his wallet.

“Hey, put that away,” said Zayn, mock reproachful. “I got this.”

Before Liam could protest, he’d handed the bartender his credit card.

“No, you may _not_ pay me back,” he said. “Liam James Payne. God. It’s a crime that we’ve gone this long without seeing each other.”

“Yeah,” Liam mumbled. If Zayn wasn’t going to bring up what happened ten years ago, then neither was he. What did it matter, anyway? The past was in the past. “You’ve been busy, like, saving the music industry.”

“Hardly,” said Zayn, but he was smiling. Liam smiled back, but he really felt drunk and messy and sad. The real crime was that Zayn had to leave. He was a superstar now, just like Liam always suspected he would be. Except now, the rest of the world agreed. Why should he have time for his high school boyfriend, who hadn’t even managed to escape the shithole town they grew up in?

Zayn was still smiling, cocking his head toward Liam. His hand hovered close to Liam’s on the bar.

“I’m gonna head up to bed,” said Zayn. “Do you wanna come?” 

His smile had turned shy but his tone suggested the exact opposite. Liam licked his lips. Was there anything he wanted more?

But looking down into Zayn’s eyes, sparkling in the low light, he felt intimately how hard – how dizzingly fast – he could fall for him again. And what a long, perilous fall it would be.

“I should be getting home, actually,” said Liam, voice thick with whiskey and regret.

“Oh, yeah,” said Zayn, dropping his gaze. “Sure. I’ll call you a cab.” He smiled. “You’re still such a lightweight, Payno.”

“At least I’m consistent,” Liam agreed. “But you don’t need to do that. I’m just over on South St. You know, my mum’s house.”

“Well, I’ll walk you home, then,” said Zayn. Liam shook his head.

“No, really. It’s fine. You said you have an early flight tomorrow. You should get some sleep.”

He was already in too deep. It would be better, from here, if he left and didn’t look back. As nice as it was to see Zayn again, the last thing he needed right now was to get attached. He got up, wobbling a little. Zayn’s hand pressed against the small of his back, steadying him.

“You’re not the boss of me, Liam,” he said, laughing quietly. “Listen. I, um.”

Liam waited, but Zayn just gave him another maddening little smile. He took Liam’s hand for a few seconds, warm and electric, fingers tracing over the sensitive skin of his palm.

“It was nice to see you,” he said finally. “It’s just really, really nice.”

“Likewise,” said Liam. He wanted, very badly, to kiss him. 

Zayn looked up through his eyelashes, more beautiful than ever in the dim lounge lighting. “I’ll text you,” he said. “And Skype. Maybe we can Skype. If you want to.”

“I don’t have Skype,” said Liam wildly, trying to think of what else to say. Was this really it? One night, and Zayn was gone?  “FaceTime only.”

“FaceTime it is, then,” said Zayn. He dropped Liam’s hand, brushing his fingers through his hair. “Goodnight, Liam.”

Walking away hurt more than Liam wanted to admit.

 

*

 

He crept into his dark, silent house a little past 2am. Trying hard not to knock anything over, he walked down the hallway to the bedrooms, using his cellphone as a flashlight. Layla’s room was on the left – his old bedroom growing up.

When she was younger, he’d slept fitfully next to her every night. Waking up several times an hour, just watching her breathe. Staring at the ceiling in the dark, going over hopeless financial realities and trying not to panic. They were dark times. 

Now he peeked into her room. Toys were scattered all over the rug, books splayed spine-up on the dresser. A Spiderman costume was discarded next to the bed. Layla was asleep on her side, thumb in her mouth and one arm tucked securely around Mr. Teddy. Clearly she’d had a good time with Grandma. 

“Love you,” Liam whispered into the dark. Layla didn’t stir. Thank god. Whispering things into her room this late at night was a very dangerous game. But it was hard to resist.

In his own room, right across the hall, he unbuttoned his shirt and stripped off the t-shirt underneath. Flopping into bed felt like heaven. But now that his buzz had worn off, he felt achey and sad. He stared at the ceiling fan. Seeing Zayn again after so long had awakened something in him that he was nervous to examine closely.

His phone buzzed on the nightstand, jolting him out of his thoughts. It was a text from an unknown number.

**Hey it’s zayn. just wanted 2 say thx for hanging out tonight. sry if I made things weird xxxxx**

**Awwwww u didn’t do anything wrong,** Liam texted back right away. **It was really great to catch up** **J have fun in LA**

He saved Zayn’s number, knowing even as he did it that he was already in too deep.

 _He’s leaving in the morning,_ Liam told himself sharply. _Don’t get involved._

He flipped off the lamp and rolled over, pretending that it wasn’t already too late for that.

 

*

 

Liam woke up to weak sunlight through the blinds and big brown eyes staring into his from about two millimeters away.

“Hey,” he croaked, and Layla’s face split into a bright smile.

“Daddy!” she shrieked, leaping on top of him. The rickety bed groaned as she struggled to her feet and bounced up and down. Liam’s head pounded but he sat up, grabbing her around the waist. 

“How’s my little girl?” He tried to kiss her on the cheek but she squirmed away, laughing. “Come back here! Did you make me waffles for breakfast?” 

“You’re supposed to make the waffles!” She threw her arms around his neck. 

“Maybe Grandma will make them for both of us,” he said, struggling out of bed with his daughter hanging from his neck like a koala. “Alright, let’s get down for a second. Can you let go?”

“No!’ Layla yelled, and Liam laughed in spite of himself.

“I can’t get dressed like this,” he pointed out, pulling her off and setting her on the floor.

“Too bad so sad!” she shouted happily. As much as his head hurt, the sound of her loud, confident voice made Liam’s heart swell with joy and gratitude. Until recently, speaking had been painful and sometimes impossible for her. In fact, less than six months ago, they’d been making regular trips to the ER.

“I have to take a shower, ladybug. Go help Grandma with breakfast.”

Layla held out her stuffed elephant. “But Mr. Teddy says good morning.”

“Oh does he?” Liam knelt down, shaking the elephant’s foot politely. “Good morning, Mr. Teddy. Great to see you. How’s the family?”

“He says he’s hungry!”

“That makes two of us.  Go help Grandma,” Liam said again, nudging her. “Maybe she’ll let you put chocolate chips in, like last time.” Layla didn’t have to be told twice. She rocketed out of the room, tiny bare feet pattering down the hallway.

Liam closed the door to the bathroom – it always stuck, it was an old house – and stepped into the shower. The water usually took an eternity to heat up, and he didn’t have time to wait today. He was in and out, toweling off, pulling a t-shirt over his head.

His phone was still facedown on the nightstand, where he’d left it last night after texting Zayn. 

 _He didn’t text you,_ Liam told himself. _You know he didn’t, so stop worrying about it._

He still flipped it over, heart pounding, feeling like an idiot. And he was right: Zayn hadn’t texted him. And if his flight was at 6am, which he’d mentioned last night, then he truly was gone. He’d been in the air for almost an hour. 

Liam slipped the phone into his back pocket, closing his eyes for a minute. It didn’t matter. His life was exactly the same as it had been 24 hours ago.

Last night was catching up with him. His reflection in the bathroom mirror stared dolefully back at him, dark circles and scruffy stubble. He didn’t have time to shave. He checked his phone again for no reason, not sure what he was expecting.

 _You should’ve kissed him last night_ , whispered his mind treacherously. _Now you’re never gonna see him again_. Liam shook his head, trying to clear it. He would not go down that dangerous path.

“Daddy!” yelled Layla from the kitchen.

“Coming, babe!” he shouted back, taking one last critical look at his appearance, trying not to feel sorry for himself. It was just a fun, unexpected one-night thing. No regrets, no hard feelings. Zayn obviously wasn’t bitter about what happened when they were teenagers, and Liam – well, it was just nice to see him, even if that was probably the last time. It was better off this way. Anything more would’ve gotten too complicated too quickly.

“Hurry up, Daddy!” 

He ran a quick hand through his hair, closing the bathroom door behind him. He had a life here. And, like it or not, Zayn simply wasn’t part of it.

 

*

 

“Morning, sunshine,” said Niall as Liam trudged through the door of the bar, still bleary-eyed despite the four cups of coffee he’d had at home. Niall was perched on a wobbly ladder, trying unsuccessfully to attach a long strand of string lights to the ceiling. Liam watched him, concerned. His stomach gurgled uncomfortably.

“Urgh.”

“Rough night?” Niall tipped him a wink. 

“You’re going to fall down and break something,” said Liam, craning his neck. 

“So are you, Liam, you look like you got hit by a truck. Sit down!”

“Ugh,” said Liam, dropping heavily into a chair. “Is it that obvious? Can you tell I never drink?”

“I can’t believe you even went,” said Niall, finally stapling the lights in place. “Aha! Got it. Seriously, the world must be on its head. Liam Payne, man about town.” 

He climbed down from the ladder, shaking his head in astonishment. “Amazing. Honestly. Is this the first time you’ve gone out since Layla was born? I bet it is.”

Liam buried his head in his arms. “Why didn’t you stop me? Why didn’t anyone stop me?” 

“I don’t think anyone thought you were in danger of actually going,” said Niall, prodding him gently. “Personally I’m still in shock.”

Luckily, the bar didn’t open for a few hours, so Liam had some time to get his act together. He didn’t technically need to be there at all, since Normani would be in at ten, but he and Niall had been opening the bar together for almost five years and old habits died hard.

“Me too,” said Liam groggily. “Blame my mum. She pushed me out of the house so fast my head spun.” 

“Good old Karen,” Niall uncoiled another strand of lights from a musty-looking cardboard box. “Where should I hang these?”

“Just,” Liam gestured vaguely at the wall behind the bar. “I dunno. Up.” Their annual Summer’s End party was Saturday night, which meant it was officially time for Niall to get himself whipped into a decorating fury.

“Up,” Niall repeated. “Good. Helpful. You should become an interior decorator.” 

“That’s hilarious,” said Liam, dropping his head into his arms again. “Really funny. Can you see me laughing?” 

“Hey, at least you had a fun time, right?” Niall winked at Liam, halfway up the ladder, and promptly dropped the power cord behind the bar. “Ah, shit. No, don’t you dare get up, I don’t want you puking on my bar. I just waxed it.”

“I’m not gonna puke on anything,” said Liam, miffed, even as his stomach grumbled unhappily. There had been no waffles, but he regretted the small bowl of oatmeal he’d wolfed down before walking over here.

“Sit back down before you pass out and break something,” Niall advised, stretching precariously to attach the lights. 

“I don’t think I’m the one in danger of breaking anything,” said Liam, eyeing the unsteady ladder.

“I’m a professional, Payno. Don’t patronize me.”

He climbed down the ladder and hopped behind the bar, mixing something Liam couldn’t see. 

“So tell me what I missed last night. Sorry I couldn’t make it, by the way.”

“You’re not sorry,” said Liam, scowling. “What was the emergency, anyway?”

Niall ignored the question, grinning cheekily. “Give me the full rundown. Did anyone good show up?”

“No,” said Liam, too quickly, and Niall’s head whipped up suspiciously.

“You said that weird. What happened?” 

“Nothing!” Damn Niall and his uncanny talent for sniffing out bullshit. “It was boring. Everyone’s a lawyer now.”

“Lawyers? Who’d you talk to? Was Ed there?” 

“Nobody, and no. Listen, it was dumb. I was anxious about leaving Layla, and I barely recognized anyone there, so I got irresponsibly drunk and went home. End of story.”

“You’ve got your lying face on,” Niall observed, cracking an egg expertly into a big pint glass. He swirled the contents and passed it over the bar to Liam. “Here ya go. Quality hangover cure. Ancient Irish secret.”

“You want me to drink an _egg_?” 

“Gonna make you strong,” said Niall, puffing out his chest. “Like me. Go on, drink up, you look like death. I need you on your feet today. Normani has a thing. We’re short-staffed.”

“We’re always short-staffed.” Liam took a tentative sip of the drink. It was distressingly thick, and a shade of orangey-pink that made him very uncomfortable. “Ugh, this is horrible.”

“I know,” said Niall, grinning. “But it’ll bring you back to life. Now tell me what you did last night, I can’t stand all this shadiness. You’re just embarrassing yourself.”

“Nothing happened!”

“Right. Nothing happened,” said Niall, voice dripping with sarcasm. “You just stood in a corner by yourself and got drunk. That sounds like something you’d do.” He paused. “Actually, that does sound like something you’d do.”

Liam opened his mouth to reply, but before he could, the door jingled open behind him. Shit. He must’ve forgotten to lock the door behind him.

“Sorry mate, we don’t open til ten,” Niall called, and then stopped short. Disbelief passed over his face, quickly chased off by an enormous smile. “No fuckin’ way,” he breathed, jostling out from behind the bar.

Liam turned to see what he was so happy about, and his heart nearly stopped. 

Standing in the doorway, rumpled and sheepish, was Zayn Malik. For the second time in 24 hours, Liam was struck dumb by the sight of him.

Niall was already halfway across the bar, pelting into Zayn with a hard hug that rocked them both. “Fucking hell, man,” he kept saying, pulling away to look at his face, then yanking him back in. “Look at you! Goddammit, Zaynie, where you been? Besides winning awards and dating supermodels? Christ, I missed you!”

“I missed you too, Nialler,” said Zayn, smiling broadly, letting Niall joyfully manhandle him. His eyes met Liam’s with an embarrassed smile.

“I’m fixing you something,” said Niall. “What do you want? Coffee? Irish coffee? That’s what you want, isn’t it. I can see it in your eyes.”

“Sounds great,” said Zayn, ducking his head, avoiding Liam’s eyes. He sat down next to him at the bar, elbow to elbow. He smelled clean and outdoorsy. The opposite of how Liam felt. 

“What are you doing here?” Liam asked, and immediately hoped it didn’t sound accusatory. “Uh, I mean, I thought your plane –“

“I, uh,” said Zayn, staring at the rows of bottles behind the bar. “Missed my flight. Oops.”

“There’s no way you flew in here for that stupid reunion,” Niall said, handing him a fancy glass of coffee. “I don’t believe it. Your face was on Rolling Stone. There’s _no way_ you came for the reunion.”

“Thanks,” said Zayn, taking the drink gratefully and cupping his hands around it. “No, I was just – in town already, sort of, so I stopped over.”

“So you _were_ there last night,” said Niall, shooting Liam a furious, amused look. Liam shrugged. He wasn’t ready to talk about it, okay? Although now all bets were off. Niall wouldn’t let this go for years. 

“Yeah, it was fun,” said Zayn, with a secret smile at Liam. “Although I think we partied a little too hard. I’m supposed to be on an international flight right now.”

“Ah well, happens to the best of us,” said Niall.

“That last drink was a bad idea,” Liam agreed.

Niall not-so-subtly nudged the disgusting hangover concoction toward him. “Payno’s feelin’ a bit rough this morning too.” 

Liam rolled his eyes, taking another sip. He wasn’t exactly in a position to be refusing any kind of assistance when he felt this bad. Especially not with Zayn Malik sitting next to him, looking fresh and gorgeous.

“So I guess you’re just killing time until the next flight leaves?”

“Aw, you can’t leave yet!” Niall exclaimed before Zayn could answer. “You’re here at the perfect time, honestly, it’s fate in motion. We have this huge party coming up, we do it every year – you gotta stay, come on. Just for a few days. You know you’re a legend around here.” 

“He doesn’t _have_ to do anything,” Liam reminded him, grimacing as he took another sip. It truly was vile. It was making him feel better, yes, but at what cost? “He has a busy schedule, unlike us. He actually has a life in the real world.”

“We have lives in the real world!” 

“Well,” said Zayn, staring into his steaming drink, “I mean, I guess I don’t technically _have_ to go to LA. It’s just a bunch of meetings, and I could probably do them over webcam.” He shrugged. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Zayn, fuckin’ hell, you’ve gotta stay.” Niall was practically vibrating with excitement. “It’s been, what, eight years?”

“Ten,” Liam corrected him, a little too quickly. 

“Ten years, what the fuck,” said Niall, astonished. “Listen, it’ll be brilliant. All of us in the same place again? We’ll tear the house down. The party’s Saturday – oh god, Tommo’s gonna lose his mind when he’s finds out you’re back –“

“No pressure, though,” Liam added quickly. “You know, we – it’s not that big of a deal if you can’t stay. It’s just a dumb party.”

Niall stared at him in open horror. “Just a dumb party?” Liam was definitely going to get his ass kicked later.

But Zayn was smiling. “I don’t feel pressured. It actually sounds really nice. All of us back here. Like old times.” He met Liam’s eyes on the last sentence, and Liam felt himself blush. “Except now we’re actually old enough to be in here.” 

“True.” Liam was about ten times too tired and hungover for this.

“So you’ll stay?” Niall looked and sounded like an over caffeinated puppy.

“Yeah,” said Zayn, his smile widening into a full grin. “Yeah, why not? Bring it on. Let’s do this right.” 

Liam’s heart did a backflip, and he did his best to keep that to himself. This was either the greatest or worst thing that had ever happened to him. Right now, the two felt interchangeable. 

“Yes!” Niall reached over the bar to give Zayn a one-armed hug. “I gotta text Lou. He’ll probably try to beat you up for staying away so long. Well, he definitely will. But I’m sure you can still take him. He hasn’t grown at all. I think he’s actually gotten smaller.” He pulled out his phone.

“I probably deserve it anyway,” said Zayn, eyes meeting Liam’s again, dark and cryptic. “You okay, Leeyum?”

“Fine,” said Liam right away. “Just a little tired.”

“Go on, drink your medicine,” said Niall. “I’m calling Tommo. God, he’s gonna flip out.”

“He won’t answer.” Liam downed the rest of his nasty secret Irish hangover cure in one gulp, which was a terrible decision. He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. “Ugh. Horrendous.”

“Straight to voicemail,” Niall announced mournfully.

“They’re in the mountains, remember? They’re doing that – retreat thing.”

“Oh yeah,” said Niall. “I can’t believe Harry got him to do that. Honestly. Can you imagine Louis in a resort? I’m surprised he hasn’t been kicked out for playing footy in the meditation garden, or whatever.” 

“So they’re, um,” Zayn’s brow wrinkled, like he was trying to parse it out in his head. “Harry and Louis got back together? When did that happen?”

“Oh yeah,” said Niall, surprised. “Ages ago. I mean – oh, well, I guess you weren’t around for that. Lucky you. It was a pain, as I’m sure you can imagine.” He laughed, incredulous. “Jesus Christ, Zayn. Ten years! How did we let this happen?”

“Mostly my fault, I’d reckon,” said Zayn with a rueful grin. “Sorry about that.” His tone was light, but the regret in his eyes hit Liam right in the heart.

“Nah,” Niall said with unusual fondness. “You were out there in the world, makin’ a name for yourself. No need to apologize for that. We’re all proud of you. Aren’t we, Liam?”

Liam didn’t hesitate. “Absolutely.” He’d followed Zayn’s career with obsessive zest, actually, right up until Layla was born and he stopped having free time. The past three years were a blur of joy and exhaustion and sticky hands, fear and love in equal measure. But he’d never quite managed to forget. And now here was Zayn, right in front of him, looking almost shy.

“Thanks. That means a lot, coming from you guys.”

“We mean it,” said Niall, and Liam nodded. Zayn ducked his head, smiling.

“I guess I should make some calls if I’m gonna be here for a few days. You know. Alert the proper authorities.” 

He winked at Liam, pulling out his wallet to pay for the coffee. Niall glared at him.

“Put that away right now.”

“Oh come on, Niall, I’m trying to support a local business.” 

“God help me, Zayn, I will throw you out of this bar,” threatened Niall. “I’m not accepting any money from you. Your drinks are free forever, no exceptions.”

“I guess there are worse problems to have.” Zayn slid his wallet into his back pocket, pulling Niall into a hug over the bar. “Thanks, mate. Good to see you.”

“Good to see you too, Zaynie,” said Niall, face ducked into Zayn’s neck. “Missed you. We all did. Hasn’t been the same around here.” 

Zayn pulled back, a wobbly smile on his face. “I’ll see you guys later.” 

Niall was giving Liam a _look_ that he staunchly refused to acknowledge. He was so nosy. “Zayn, I thought you might want to know, a new Italian restaurant opened up right next door,” he said loudly. “You should go there tonight, check it out. It’s a great place to, like. Hang out and have conversations.”

Liam stared at him with undisguised horror. What the hell did he think he was doing?

“Liam will take you,” Niall continued, smiling now, because he obviously enjoyed humiliating Liam as efficiently and effortlessly as he could. “He loves that place.”

“Oh, really?” Zayn met Liam’s eyes. “That sounds fun.”

“I’m supposed to work tonight,” said Liam miserably. “We’re short-staffed, and it’s my double shift day. Isn’t it?”

“Wrong,” said Niall, leaning casually against the bar. “We’re always short-staffed, so who cares, and also you now have the night off. I’m his boss,” he explained to Zayn.

“He’s not my boss. We’re each other’s bosses. Co-bosses, if you will.”

“Co-bosses,” repeated Zayn, looking between them. Ugh, he knew exactly what was going on. How embarrassing.

“Be that as it may. As your co-boss, I command you to take Zayn to Arlo’s and have a good time.” 

Liam rolled his eyes. Zayn smiled at him, hands in his jacket pockets. He looked even better than he had last night, which was saying something. Dark tight jeans, and an artfully rumpled t-shirt that probably cost more than all of Liam’s furniture.

“Well, I guess I’ll see you tonight, then,” he said, and Zayn’s smile grew. 

“Guess so.”

 

*

 

By the time dinner rolled around, Liam was feeling less like a pile of living ooze and more like a human person. That was good. But the fact remained, he had a maybe-date with Zayn, thanks to Niall. A fact that Niall seemed virtually unable to stop reminding him throughout the day. 

“It’s not a date!” he said finally, slamming the fridge with unnecessary force. 

“Oh it’s not?” Niall smirked. The bar was deserted, giving him maximum space to tease Liam, who’d been praying for a rush all day. Sundays were never busy though. “What is it, then? Casual hangout with your super hot super famous ex who just so happened to swing by our tiny middle-of-nowhere town wanting to have dinner with you?”

“No, we’re going to Arlo’s because you’re an invasive son of a bitch and left us no room for argument. Zayn probably doesn’t even want to go.”

“He wants to go,” Niall said with certainty. “And you’ll thank me later.” He paused, watching Liam thoughtfully. “So have you two talked about –“

“No,” said Liam, “and I don’t think we’re going to. I mean, what’s the point?”

“What’s the point of finally telling him your side of the story?”

“He knows my side of the story,” Liam muttered, ears burning. This was the last thing in the world he wanted to talk about. With Zayn, with Niall, with anyone. “It’s been ten years, Niall. He’s over it. I’m over it. Why dredge it up again?” 

“Does he know? Really?”

“I don’t know,” Liam admitted. “I mean, what would it matter if I tell him now? What am I supposed to say? Oh hey, sorry I blew you off ten years ago and let you get on a bus without me, I was having a bad day?”

“No,” said Niall. “Not that. Tell him the truth.”

“That _is_ the truth.” His phone buzzed with a text from Zayn, who was on his way to the restaurant.  

“Liam, it’s not the truth, and we both know it,” said Niall gently. “Is that Zayn? Okay, you’re off the clock.” He grabbed the rag away from Liam and shooed him toward the door. “Have a good date!”

“It’s not a date!” Liam protested as Niall pushed him – firmly, lovingly – out the door.

 

*

 

Zayn was sitting in a booth when Liam got there, frowning at a menu. He broke into a sunny, stunning smile when he saw Liam.

“Hey,” said Liam with an awkward little wave.

“Hey yourself.”

Liam slid into the booth opposite him, and Zayn folded his menu back up. His heart was pounding for some stupid reason. Niall’s voice echoed in his head – _aren’t you going to talk to him?_

No, he wasn’t. He was going to have pleasant conversations that didn’t include bringing up all the ways he fucked up ten years ago. Obviously Zayn was over it. What was the point in doing an autopsy on their past relationship? Zayn was here for a week. They could get along and be friends. It didn’t have to get complicated.

“How’d your meetings go?” Liam asked, plastering a smile on his face.

Zayn rolled his eyes. “Ugh, exactly how I expected. Tedious, never-ending. They never tell you about the meetings. It’s the worst part of show business. Not to mention, my webcam kept glitching on the hotel Wi-Fi, so it took about ten times longer than it should’ve.”

“Ah yeah, sorry,” said Liam. “Jeez, what a pain.” He paused. “Listen, I know you said you didn’t feel pressured, but I hope you know you don’t have to stay because of –“

“Don’t even say it,” said Zayn. “Seriously, Liam. I know what you’re thinking, but I’m not staying because of you.” 

“Oh, thanks,” said Liam faux-sarcastically, secretly relieved. 

“You know what I mean,” said Zayn, opening the menu again. “So what will I like here?” 

“They have a whole page of chicken stuff,” said Liam. “Actually, there’s this chicken and aubergine one – yeah, that one.”

Zayn was smiling, biting his lower lip, and Liam was hit by a sudden wave of nostalgia. Probably Niall’s fault for forcing him to think about the past. But it was an old, familiar ache – what would’ve happened if Liam had gone with him? What would’ve happened if Zayn never left?

The restaurant was almost empty, which was a good thing. A couple in the corner kept glancing curiously over at Zayn. He didn’t seem to notice. Liam wondered if that just came with the territory of being a huge star – you stopped noticing your own influence on people after awhile. Or maybe he was just good at ignoring it.

“So where’s your bodyguard?” Liam asked. “Don’t you – I mean, aren’t you supposed to have –“

“I gave him the week off,” said Zayn, eyes flitting off to the side. “I, uh. He doesn’t know I’m here.” A pause, and then he looked right into Liam’s eyes, like they were sharing a secret. “Nobody knows I’m here, actually.”

“Is that – are you allowed to do that?” Liam blurted out, and instantly felt embarrassed. Of course he was _allowed_. He was a pop star, not a puppet.

“Not really,” said Zayn, still smiling. He looked like he might say something else, then stopped short. “Listen. I just wanted to say, in person, like – I’m sorry about last night. If you felt like I was, I dunno, trying to get you to come upstairs with me. I mean, I was, but – I didn’t mean it in a sleazy way.” He shook his head. “I mean, I guess I kinda did, but I wasn’t – I just got carried away. Ugh, this is coming out all wrong.”

“No, it’s okay,” said Liam, trying not to laugh. He reached across the table before he could help himself, taking Zayn’s hand. “Shut up. It’s okay. I don’t mind.” 

He felt Zayn’s smile all the way down to his toes. 

“I’m glad you said no,” said Zayn. “At least one of us is responsible.”

Liam shrugged, sheepish. “You know me.”

“I do.” Zayn’s thumb pressed down hard into Liam’s palm before he let go. 

“So tell me stuff,” said Liam, suddenly overloud in the quiet moment. “How’s life in first-class?”

Zayn shrugged, looking away. “It’s – okay. I travel a lot. You get tired.” 

“Well, we have that in common, at least,” said Liam. “The tired part. Not the travel part. I’m not surprised you’re tired. It’s been, what, three tours in a row for you?”

“Four,” said Zayn, “and my team’s trying to convince me to do a fifth. It’s just – I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, like, it’s a dream come true, but – I don’t know. It gets draining. Work and travel, perform every night, record on the road, rinse and repeat.” He paused, mouth trying to do too many things at once. “I don’t have anything to come home to, you know?” 

His eyes met Liam’s for an instant, bright and burning. Liam swallowed, and opened his mouth to say – what? Luckily they were interrupted by a stony-faced server, who took their order with as little inflection as possible. If she knew who Zayn was, she gave no indication that she cared.

“Life on the road seems exhausting,” said Liam, once she was gone. Zayn nodded.

“Yeah. Sorry for complaining so much. But I can’t lie – sometimes I wish I’d just stuck around. Settled down, become an art teacher or something.” He shrugged.

“Stuck around – _here_?” Liam asked incredulously. “You can’t be serious! You’d be bored out of your mind.”

“I dunno,” said Zayn, tipping his head to smile at Liam. He was lovely in the soft light, eyes crinkled up into a smile. “Not with you lot around.”

“Trust me, you’re better off,” Liam assured him. “You’ve changed the world. Just like we knew you would.” He paused, trying to think of how to word the next part. “And I’m glad, uh, you know you can come back.” 

“I’ve been meaning to,” said Zayn, examining his hands. They were somehow broader and yet more delicate than Liam remembered, covered with beautiful, intricate tattoos. “I guess I could never quite find the time.” 

“I’m glad you’re here now,” said Liam before he could help himself, and Zayn smiled.

“So what about you?”

“What about me?” Liam asked with a little laugh. “Honestly, you got the full rundown last night.” 

“Oh, come on. I know there’s more. It’s been ten years, Payno.”

“Well – we got the pub a few years ago – actually, it’s almost the five year anniversary of when we changed the name –“

“Very original name, by the way,” said Zayn, giggling. “Niall’s Pub. Creative.”

“I know, right? See, this is what happens when you leave us to our own devices for ten years. Poor creative direction.” He laughed too. “So I spend half my life there, and the other half – trying to be a good dad.” He paused. “That came out wrong. I’m always trying to be a good dad.”

“I got it,” said Zayn, smiling. His eyes looked so fond. “I bet you’re a great dad. Layla sounds amazing.” 

Liam liked the way her name rolled off his tongue. He felt an absurd urge to yank Zayn out of his seat, march him down a few blocks and show him, in person, exactly what kind of miracle Liam had somehow created.

 “She’s the best,” he said instead, unable to stop smiling. “She, um. She hasn’t had the easiest life, but she’s always so cheerful. It’s really quite inspiring.”

“Hm, I wonder where she gets that?”

Liam ducked his head, smiling. “Couldn’t tell you. No, she’s amazing. Only three and she’s such a good little person. We spent last Christmas in the hospital, and I turn around for one second and she’s like, trying to give her presents away to the little boy sharing her room. I mean, what kind of kid –”

He paused, laughing, warm in the glow of Zayn’s bright gaze. “She’s had these health problems since she was born, and we were afraid – I mean, it was really difficult for a long time, but she’s so – she’s such a fighter.” He fell silent, afraid he was rambling. But Zayn was listening intently, head cocked to the side. 

“What kind of health problems? Why was she in the hospital?”

“Well, she’s okay now,” said Liam. “She had bad asthma up until pretty recently ago though. She was a preemie. Stayed in the hospital for nearly two months after she was born. You should’ve seen me trying to balance work and hospital trips, running around like a madman – and then her mum left, of course –“ He stopped short, embarrassed. This was definitely oversharing. Get a grip, Payne.

“That sounds really tough,” said Zayn, and he was looking across the table at Liam with his big brown sympathetic eyes. God, he’d always been such a good listener. “If you don’t mind me asking, um – her mum –“

“Rachael,” said Liam. “She’s not – I mean, I hope I haven’t given you the wrong idea. She’s no, like, a horrible person or anything like that. She had her reasons for leaving. It was a mutual decision.” Kind of.

“What happened?”

Liam shrugged. How long had it been since he’d talked about this? Had he _ever_ told someone this story, from beginning to end?

“She’s a dancer. She’s really good, actually. She was only in town for the summer. It was a few years ago, obviously. She came into the pub a lot, and we’d chat.” He paused, unable to remember the last time he’d talked this much about something so personal. It felt weird. But Zayn was making steady eye contact, head cocked sympathetically, and Liam continued. 

“It wasn’t like me, to um – hop into bed with someone like that, but – yeah. We went out dancing, had a good time, and – I dunno. She was as shocked as I was about the pregnancy. I mean, we were really just. Blown away.”

Zayn nodded, still making eye contact, and a shiver went Liam. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had listened to him this intently. How could it still be this easy to talk to Zayn, even after so many years? 

“She wasn’t ready to be a mother. She thought we should give Lay up to people who could take care of her. But I convinced her – I dunno. I thought we could make it work. And for awhile it seemed like it would.”

“Right,” said Zayn, looking concerned. “Hey, it’s okay if you don’t want to talk about this. I understand.”

“No, it’s okay,” said Liam, feeling strangely determined. “There’s not much more to – Layla was born, and Rachael found out that she’d gotten some big part in a show. In London. So, uh, she went.” 

“She just – left?”

Liam shrugged, uncomfortable. “It was a lot of pressure,” he said, trying to be fair. “She’s young, she had big dreams. I mean, she was like 22 when this happened.”

“You were young too,” Zayn pointed out, and Liam shrugged again, uncomfortable. 

“It’s okay, Zayn. I understand why she left.” 

“Do you?”

“Yeah. And even if I didn’t – what could I have done? You can’t control what other people do. You deal with what life gives you.” He paused. “And I don’t regret anything. Layla’s the one thing in my life that I –“ he paused, emotional, and Zayn reached across the table to take his hand. Liam shook his head to clear it.

“She comes back a few times a year, you know, to visit. Sometimes I think it would almost be easier if she didn’t, but,” he shrugged. “Layla loves it when she comes.” He didn’t add how heart-wrenching it was to watch Layla cling to her when she tried to leave. 

“Yeah, I can imagine,” said Zayn. “How often does she come?”

“Couple times a year,” said Liam. “Not yet this year, though. She’s a big star now, I guess.” He laughed, hollow, trying not to sound resentful. Was he resentful? He didn’t know. He tried not to think about it. 

“And you’re – doing okay?” 

“We’re doing the best we can,” said Liam. “It’s a lot easier now. When Layla was first born – god. It was hard. She wasn’t an easy baby. In and out of the hospital. She had these bad attacks, like, she wouldn’t even be able to cry – you just had to watch her all the time. She’d start making this horrible, gaspy sound –“

He shuddered at the memory, and Zayn’s fingers gripped his. His smooth, warm touch was soothing. 

“Thank god for my mum,” said Liam. “I would’ve been lost without her. And the lads, of course. Niall’s a born babysitter, did you know that? He put up No Smoking signs all over the pub so Layla could hang out there when my mum couldn’t watch her. She used to sleep in her little carrier in a corner booth.”

“That sounds really cute.” 

“It was cute,” Liam confirmed. “It was very cute. And she’s a lot better now. The doctors kept saying that her asthma would go away as she got older, and she hasn’t had a bad attack in months.” He couldn’t stop the proud smile from spreading over his face.

“That’s great,” said Zayn, smiling back. The server came back with their food, still inflectionless.

“Sorry for rambling so much,” said Liam. “I should probably shut up and let you talk for a bit.” 

“I don’t mind, I like to hear your rambling,” said Zayn, and took a bite of his chicken. His eyes fluttered closed. “Oh god, this is good.” 

Liam burst out laughing. “Hang on, hold that pose. I need to take a photo for TMZ.”

“They have enough pictures of me doing embarrassing things,” said Zayn, rolling his eyes. “Every week it’s something new. Liam, really though.”

His hand was still on Liam’s, thumb rubbing little circles on his skin. Neither of them moved.

“You’re not rambling,” Zayn said finally. “I like hearing about your life. It’s – it’s been too long. I should’ve reached out to you.”

“I understand why you didn’t,” said Liam carefully. With a practiced flick, he turned his mind away from the memory of Zayn boarding a bus, alone, tattered blue duffel bag slung over his shoulder. He hadn’t looked back.

“But enough about me. Tell me more about the Malik Empire.”

“Not much of an empire, is it?” Zayn chuckled ruefully. “Honestly, all I want to do at this point is chill out for awhile. Maybe start my own label down the line. But – some people, ah, really want me to do this tour.”

“You can’t just say no?”

“I wish,” murmured Zayn, moving food around on his plate. “I mean, I could. But it’s not as easy as that. That’s kind of why I’m here, I guess.” His eyes stayed trained on his plate. “I just needed a breather, you know?”

“I know,” said Liam, although he didn’t. It seemed like the right thing to say.

“But I know what I have to do,” said Zayn, with a crooked smile. “Stop complaining and drag my ass around the world again.”  

“Your last album was really good,” said Liam, feeling shy. All of this talk about labels and touring – this was Zayn, but at the same time, it wasn’t. He was sitting across from one of the most famous people in the world. He had tracks with Justin Timberlake and Frank Ocean. And here he was, smiling his cute crinkly-eyed smile in a grimy diner booth across from Liam.

“Thanks,” said Zayn. “It was, um, well.” He met Liam’s eyes, smiling, and didn’t finish whatever he was going to say. An absurdly strong wave of affection surged through Liam, and he resisted the urge to reach across the table and kiss Zayn on the mouth.

“You’ve really made it, Zed,” he said instead. “I know it sounds silly, me in this little town, and strangers from all over saying this to you every day, but I’m – I’m really proud of you.”

“It means the most coming from you,” said Zayn right away. Then: “Yikes. That was sappy.” 

“It was,” Liam agreed, grinning. “I like it when you validate me. You should come ‘round more often.”

“Yeah, maybe I should.” Zayn finished his soda. “What are you up to tonight?” 

“This,” said Liam, grinning. He checked his watch. “And going home in a few, to put my child to bed. My mum’s watching her, but,” he shrugged. His mum had explicitly told him to stay out as long as he wanted. He mentioned that Zayn was in town and she got her no-arguments face on right away. “I don’t like to make my mum watch her unless it’s absolutely necessary. I feel bad.” 

“Yeah, I understand,” said Zayn, biting his lower lip. He looked like he might say something else but instead shook his head with a little smile. “I think that couple in the corner might really try to sell a video to TMZ if we hang out too long.”

“We can’t be seen together,” Liam agreed. “Think of your reputation.”

The night was warm and quiet, buzzing crickets and faraway boat horns. They walked side by side in companionable silence. Liam checked his watch – frayed, falling apart, but still useable – it was a little past 9. 

Zayn noticed the watch, grabbing Liam’s hand to take a better look. He laughed incredulously. “Payno, tell me that’s not the same watch you had in high school.”

“What? It still works.” Liam tapped it (very, very lightly) with pride. Zayn rolled his eyes.

“You haven’t changed a bit,” he said, but there was something quiet and unsaid in his eyes. They turned onto Liam’s street.   Liam had a sudden memory of riding their bikes together on this street, racing and teasing each other and being generally annoying. Zayn was looking around, wide-eyed, like he’d never been there before.

“Wow, these trees got huge. It looks so different.”

“They did get big,” Liam agreed. “Everything else is the same, though. Even Mrs. Fitzgerald still lives next door. She’ll be there until the day she dies.”

“Which will be never,” said Zayn. “She’s two hundred already.”

“True. Remember when she chased us out of her yard that time when we were looking for my dog?”

“How could I forget? She had a rake. I feared for my life.” 

“She’s gotten a bit nicer,” said Liam with a chuckle. “When I first moved back in with my mum, she stopped me on the road and gave me a long lecture about, like, this is what premarital sex gets you!” 

“What does it get you?”

“Uh, babies. Drastic lifestyle changes.”

“Oh. Right.”

“Well, then she brought over a cobbler, which I couldn’t actually eat, because it had peaches in it. But it was a nice gesture.”

Zayn was laughing, hands in his pockets, walking so close that Liam could smell his subtle cologne. “You think Layla’s still awake?” 

“Oh god, I hope not,” said Liam. “My mum’s really good at putting her down. Better than I am, actually, which can be a little demoralizing.”

“She’s had a lot of practice,” Zayn pointed out, smiling.

They stopped in front of Liam’s house. Looking at Zayn, smiling up at him with the ancient porch light shining on his hair, Liam was struck by a wave of nostalgia. How many times had they stood out on this porch, joking and talking shit and kissing and fighting? 

The weight of the intermittent years suddenly felt enormous, crushing. Everything he remembered, everything he’d worked so hard to forget. And here was Zayn, like something out of a daydream. The same gentle hands, the same quick dark eyes that didn’t miss a thing. Liam felt like screaming. 

Zayn shuffled his feet, still smiling. “Well, I guess I’ll –“ 

Liam kissed him. He didn’t think about it before he did it, and by the time his brain caught up with his body, he was fully wrapped up in Zayn. His hands curled around Zayn’s soft, delicate face and Zayn’s fingers tangled in the back of his t-shirt. Zayn’s lips were warm and soft and tasted like Dr. Pepper. 

“Fuck,” said Liam, pulling away. “Sorry.” 

“What?” Zayn was laughing in a shocked, helpless way, pressing the back of his hand to his mouth. “What are you – don’t apologize –" 

He lunged up and kissed Liam again, knocking both of them off-balance, stumbling feet and clutching each other’s shoulders to stay upright. Their mouths met again and again and Zayn’s hands raked over Liam’s back, holding him by the waist, the shoulders, the back of his neck. 

“Oh my god,” he mumbled against Liam’s mouth, breathless and muffled. “God, Leeyum.” 

“I know,” said Liam, holding Zayn tight against him. He wasn’t sure what he was agreeing with. Maybe all of it. 

Zayn nipped his lower lip, pulling it between his teeth, making Liam growl. He backed Zayn up against the railing, kissing him again and again. Zayn’s fingers hooked into his belt loops, pulling their bodies flush, and _oh –_ he was as hard as Liam. Maybe harder. Liam swore under his breath, unable to stop his hips thrusting forward against Zayn’s. 

Zayn pushed back, grinding on him, tongue in his mouth. For half a second, Liam wondered if it was possible to actually pass out from arousal. His hands wandered up the back of Zayn’s shirt, across the soft skin of his back, over the tattoos he hadn’t seen in years. Zayn moaned into his mouth. 

“Fuck, Lee,” he murmured, pulling back with a dark little grin, “this is just like school.” 

His hand crawled down between their bodies, brushing across the front of Liam’s jeans. Liam gritted his teeth, breathing hard. There was nothing he wanted more in the world than this, right now. 

“Wait,” he said, and for one raw second they were eye-to-eye, faces together but not kissing, breathing each other’s air. Liam had forgotten how well he knew Zayn’s eyes. Golden-dark with a little freckle in the left one, long lovely lashes. A dangerous wave of memories threatened to pull him under. 

Liam opened his mouth to say something – what? What could he say? -- but from inside came the unmistakable wail of an unhappy toddler, rising to a crescendo.

“Ah shit,” said Liam, laughing quietly. “Not quite like school.”

“I guess not,” Zayn agreed, fingers playing with the hem of Liam’s t-shirt. He was out of breath, a little giggly, a little serious. “Um. I guess you should.”

“Yeah,” said Liam, trying in vain to smooth down his hair where Zayn’s fingers had wound through it. “I guess I should.” 

It was so hard to stop touching Zayn.   He was looking off to the side, a little coy, a little snarky, breathtakingly gorgeous. Lips swollen dark pink, hair a beautiful mess, long lashes lowered. He looked up at Liam, taking his time, putting on a show. 

Liam reached down, hand moving on its own, to drag his thumb over Zayn’s lower lip. Zayn kissed the pad of his finger, meeting his eyes. 

“It was good to catch up,” he said.

“Yeah, it was.” Impulsively, Liam pulled Zayn into a final kiss, swift but deep. “Goodnight, Zayn.” 

“Goodnight.”

Layla was still crying inside, but Liam hesitated in the threshold, holding the screen door open. 

“Listen, I know you probably have some meetings and stuff, but – I’m taking Layla to the fair. It’s the last day, and, well. Do you wanna come with us?” 

“Yes,” said Zayn at once. “Yeah, definitely.” 

Liam had half-expected him to say no. 

“Really? You won’t – you don’t have anything to do?” 

“I have my priorities in order, Liam Payne.” Zayn was smiling, his real smile, not the cocky magazine grin.

“Okay, I can work with that.” 

“I mean, I’m sorry if we get mobbed or something. I’ll be that douchebag wearing sunglasses even if it’s all cloudy. I may dive behind you at unexpected times.”

“That’s what you get for going rogue and traveling without your security people.” Liam couldn’t wipe the grin off of his face. Zayn was going to meet his daughter. He hadn’t even realized how deeply he’d longed for that, and tried not to think about how familiar it felt. 

“Guess you’ll have to be my stand-in,” said Zayn. “I’ll pay you in corndogs.” He stood up on his tiptoes to peck Liam on the lips. “Go tend to your child, Payno. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Before Liam could ask how he was getting back to his hotel, he had hopped off the porch and started out alone into the night. Liam watched him go -- small and self-assured, slim and lovely and familiar. Something powerful and dangerous stirred in Liam’s chest like a snake. He pushed it sternly down. Don’t get attached. He’s only here until the end of the week.

Liam pushed open the door into the familiar foyer of his mum’s house, trying to ignore the fact that it was already too late for that.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you SO MUCH to everyone who left me love on the last chapter :') I really appreciate it, you're all awesome and I love you. Anyway here's part 2

“Yeah, we’re leaving now,” said Liam into his cellphone, cradled between his shoulder and chin as he strapped Layla into her car seat. The morning sunlight peeked through the trees, dappling the sleepy Sunday morning street with splashes of color. “You sure you’ll be okay until Normani comes in?”

“Oh my god,” said Niall on the other line, and Liam could practically hear his eyeroll. “It’s your day off. You’re taking your daughter to the fair, and two-time Grammy winner Zayn Malik is escorting you. Will you stop worrying about the bar for two seconds and enjoy yourself?”

“I’ll try,” said Liam, switching ears to check the buckle with his right hand. “My heart is always there though.”

“You disgust me,” said Niall, but lovingly. “Alright, I gotta split. These tables aren’t gonna wipe themselves. My usual table-wiper is banned from the premises today.”

“Oh, is he?”

“Yep, and if he shows up, we’re gonna pretend to be closed until he goes away. Have a good day off, mate.”

“See ya, bud,” said Liam, ending the call. He slid the phone into his back pocket and grinned at Layla. “Ready to hit the road, babe?”

“Yes!” she shrieked from the backseat, waving the long-suffering Mr. Teddy around by his trunk.

“Is Mr. Teddy excited?”

“No, he’s scared,” she said, hugging him to her chest.

“Oh yeah? Big, tough elephant like him? What’s he scared of?” Liam asked, hopping into the front seat.

“Alligators,” she whispered, somber, and Liam burst out laughing.

“I think we’ll be alright,” he said. “You can fight ‘em off, right?”

“Yeah!”

They picked up Zayn outside his hotel, and Layla gave him a suspicious look as he climbed in the passenger seat.

“I don’t know you,” she announced, cracking Liam up. Zayn gave him a look that quite clearly said _this is obviously your child_.

“Ladybug, this is Zayn. Can he come to the fair with us?”

“Maybe,” she said, holding Mr. Teddy to her chest. Zayn swiveled around in his seat, smiling.

“Hi Layla,” he said. “I like your elephant.”

She stared at him with huge brown eyes for a few seconds, and then said, “My daddy has a picture of you.”

“What? Does he really?”

“I do not!” Liam yelped, and Layla started giggling.

“Yes you do!”

“Children never lie,” said Zayn, winking at Layla in the rearview mirror. She giggled harder. “Thanks for the info, Layla.”

Liam could feel his face getting red. “I don’t know what she’s talking about,” he muttered, pulling off of the curb.

“She’s a really good talker,” said Zayn, leaning his elbow out the window. “When Doniya’s kids were that age, it was all babbling and spilling macaroni on the floor.”

“Yeah, she’s leaps and bounds ahead of her age group. Although to be fair, we do plenty of babbling and macaroni-spilling around here as well.”

“Her, or you?”

“Mostly me,” Liam admitted.

“Figured,” said Zayn with a grin. “Now what’s this about a secret photo of me? Is it framed?”

“No!”

“Do you keep it by your bed?”

“We are not talking about this,” Liam grumbled, secretly delighted. The morning smelled like freshly-cut grass and possibility through the open windows. For once, Liam was exactly where he wanted to be.

Although the fair was relatively crowded for early morning – it was the last day, and a gorgeous one at that – Zayn’s sunglasses seemed to be doing the trick. He’d left his hair loose around his face, and that combined with the three-year-old on his shoulders seemed to be the perfect disguise.

They wandered around for a couple of hours, enjoying the sunshine. Layla warmed up to Zayn impossibly fast. She was always a friendly kid, but Liam had never seen her get attached to someone so quickly. At least they were on the same page about that. They stopped to get drinks, and when Liam came back, Zayn had done her poofy, unruly hair into two neat braids.

“Daddy, look!”

Liam laughed, handing her a child-sized lemonade. “Gorgeous. Zayn, you have hidden depths.”

“It’s nothing,” said Zayn. “You don’t grow up around three sisters without picking up some tricks.”

“Well, I might have to hire you full-time,” said Liam, taking a seat next to him on the park bench. The lemonade was cold and sour-sweet, a taste he associated with summers long ago. “I can’t braid for anything. I try so hard. Every morning she’s like, do Elsa hair! And I’m like . . . how about a ponytail?”

Zayn was laughing, tongue pressed behind his teeth. “Elsa?”

“Disney movie,” said Liam. “We’ve only seen it fifty or sixty times.”

“Elsa hair!” yelled Layla.

“Next time,” Zayn promised. “I might need to do some research for that. I’m not up-to-date on my princess hairstyles.”

“Um, excuse you,” said Liam, shooting a look at his daughter. “Elsa is a _queen_.”

“Oh my gosh, is she really?”

“Layla, Zayn’s never seen Frozen. What do you think about that?”

Layla threw up her tiny hands in amazement. “Never?!”

“Not even once,” Zayn confirmed, smoothing down a flyaway by her hairline. “You’ll have to show me later.”

“Frozen is the best!” she yelled, before launching into a mostly-incomprehensible monologue about the plot. Liam listened for a few seconds, trying not to laugh. He met Zayn’s eyes, and they both grinned.

“Is she always like this?”

“Always,” Liam confirmed. “At least when she’s comfortable.”

“It’s sweet,” said Zayn. He couldn’t stop smiling, and neither, it seemed, could Liam.

“Hey ladybug, do you want to ride the turtles?”

“Yeah!” Layla shrieked, and Liam whisked her into the air.

“Come on, let’s go before the line gets too long.”

Later, while they watched Layla ride the Turtle Train for the fifth time, Zayn’s fingers brushed over Liam’s on the park bench.

“Thanks for bringing me,” he said, tipping his head back to feel the gentle breeze. “God, this is a blast from the past. I don’t remember the last time I was here.”

“I do,” said Liam, grinning. “It was when we were sixteen, and Louis poured a bunch of vodka into his Slushee and drank the whole thing in like ten seconds –“

“And then barfed on the Tilt-A-Whirl and got us kicked out,” Zayn finished, laughing. “Okay, I can’t believe I forgot about that.”

“In your defense, nobody _wants_ to remember something like that.”  

“Scarring,” Zayn agreed.

“This is her first time here,” said Liam, nodding at Layla. “We tried to go last year, but she got sick. Had to spend a few nights in the hospital.”

“Ah, I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Yeah, it was rough. She’s always such a trooper about it, though. And the nurses love her.”

“Hi Daddy!” yelled Layla as she went past on the tiny track, surrounded by other babies. Liam and Zayn waved back. A blonde woman in a track suit on the adjacent bench gave them a smile, patting her sleeping baby on the back.

“She’s a cutie. How old?”

“She’ll be three in September,” said Liam.

“What a precious age,” said the woman, her smile widening. “She’s lucky to have such devoted parents. How long have you been together?”

“Oh we’re not –“ said Liam, at the same time that Zayn said, “Well, I’m not really –“

They both broke off, laughing.

“I’m actually just visiting,” Zayn finished. But his fingers tightened on Liam’s on the bench, gaze unreadable beneath his mirrored aviators.  

 

*

 

Liam had left his phone in the car all day, not expecting to get any texts. He opened it to see roughly three hundred and nine notifications, mostly from Louis. The latest one was just a full page of knife emojis.

“Uh oh,” he said, unable to conceal his grin. “I think Tommo found out you’re here.”

“He’s back from his trip?”

“Looks like it,” said Liam, picking up his daughter and nearly dropping the phone onto the gravel. “Be my secretary?” He handed Zayn his phone while he strapped Layla into her car seat. She was drowsy from spending the morning in the sun, head lolling against the padded side of the seat.

“Tell Zayn I love him and I’m gonna kill him,” Zayn read aloud, wrinkling his nose. “Bit of a mixed message, isn’t it?”

“Maybe he means with kindness.”

Zayn examined the message again. “He doesn’t. Look at all those gun emojis. Well, it’s been nice knowing you.”

“It has been nice,” said Liam, propping Mr. Teddy up next to Layla’s car seat. She was already dozing, eyes fluttering closed each time they re-opened. “Don’t worry. I’ll protect you. What are the other ten thousand messages about?”

He opens the car door, buckling his own seatbelt, and Zayn climbs into the passenger seat, still squinting at Liam’s phone.

“Not sure. Let’s see. As far as I can tell, he has an important announcement,” said Zayn, flashing Liam the screen, which said:

**BIG THINGS ARE HAPPENING & NOT JUST IN MY PANTS :) :) :) **

“Oh,” said Liam. “Um. Well.”

“Uh, yeah. So after that gem, he goes on to cordially invite you to a private party at your bar tonight, um, that one has a bunch of lightning bolts and martini glasses -- does he always use this many emojis?”

Liam examined the message. “That’s actually pretty conservative for him. Sometimes it’s like trying to read hieroglyphics.”

“I see. Well, it looks like there’s a party-slash-possible-murder happening at the bar tonight, and you’re supposed to be there at eight.”

“Thanks, Lieutenant,” said Liam, and Zayn gave him a little salute. “You busy tonight?”

“Yeah, obviously,” said Zayn. “I think I have to duel or something. Where can I get a bulletproof vest around here?”

“See, this is why you don’t leave your security guards at home.”

“I got cocky,” Zayn lamented. “But hang on, aren’t you supposed to be my security stand-in?”

“Sorry, this is getting too dangerous,” said Liam, pulling out of the parking lot. “I have a family to think about.”

“I knew I should’ve brought a weapon.”

Liam smiled. “Honestly, I think you’ll survive. He’ll probably try to punch you in the junk a few times, and then spend the rest of the night clinging to your back like a spider monkey.”

“That much I deserve,” said Zayn, smiling. “Pick me up on your way over?”

“You got it.”

 

*

 

Later, the pub was closed with half the chairs upside-down on tables and half still on the floor. It could’ve been a scene from their school days: Niall pouring shots, shouting something happy and incoherent, Harry with his elbows on the table, staring dreamily into his beer, and Louis with his arms around Zayn’s neck, telling some long and extremely vulgar joke that probably wouldn’t have been coherent even if any of them were sober.

Zayn was laughing, even though Liam was like ninety percent sure he didn’t understand the joke any better than the rest of them. Probably he was just happy to have Louis in his lap, although in Liam’s experience, that was never a particularly comfortable feeling.

“He’s never leaving me again,” Louis announced. “He’s back and better than ever, and I’m not letting him go. I’m putting a leash on him. Is that illegal?”

“Not if he says it’s okay,” said Niall from behind the bar.

“Consent is crucial,” Harry added.

“Alright, I’m doing it.” 

“Oh my god,” murmured Liam, “can we please stop talking about like – public nudity and putting leashes on each other?”

“Payno, I don’t know what else you expect us to talk about,” said Louis, appalled.

“He’s just jealous,” said Harry knowingly, chin tipped into one hand.

“Liam, are you jealous? Are you mad you didn’t think of the leash idea first?”

“Leave him alone,” said Zayn, but he was laughing, and Louis pressed a messy kiss to his cheek.

“Shots for my boys,” said Niall, dropping a tray on the table with a thunk. “These are called – Raging Volcanoes. I just invented them.”

“Ah, so we’re your test subjects?” Zayn asked, taking one.

“Yep, you’re my canaries. If any of you lot keels over, I won’t be serving them at the summer party.”

“That’s animal cruelty,” says Harry, taking a shot glass. “What’s in these, anyway?”

“Not important. Don’t question your bartender.”

“To the best and worst friends of my life,” said Louis, holding his up. It’s what they used to say at school, and Liam couldn’t help but smile. He hadn’t thought of that in years. He picked up his own shot.

“I’ll drink to that.”

“Bottoms up,” said Harry with a smile. He looked, as usual, like he should be pouting on a billboard somewhere, especially in a loose flowery top that showed off his tattoos 

The shot burned Liam’s throat but bloomed warm and comforting in his belly. He closed his eyes for a minute and when he opened them, a little buzzed, it was like a blast from the past. All four of his best friends crowded around the rickety pub table, laughing and jostling and antagonizing each other. If he squinted, he could almost pretend Zayn had never left.

But he did, Liam reminded himself. And he was leaving again in two days. His throat constricted a little, and he stared down at the scratched, gouged wooden table. Louis had gotten up for some reason, and Zayn gave Liam a concerned, sideways look.

“You okay?” His voice was quiet, genuine, but before Liam could answer, Louis reached between them and rapped on the table with his knuckles.

“Silence, please, lads. I have an announcement.”

“ _We_ have an announcement,” Harry corrected, tucking a stray curl behind his ear. He was grinning, a luminous smile not unlike looking directly into the sun.

“Shh, yes, we, sorry.”

Zayn was smiling too, leaning on the table with one elbow, his other arm perilously close to Liam’s. “What is it, then? Get on with it!”

“Quiet, Malik! I’m trying!” Louis smoothed down the front of his shirt and brushed his bangs out of his eyes, unable to quit grinning even as he attempted to glare at Zayn. “So, as you know, Styles and I have been up in the mountains for some extremely boring R&R –“ 

“Ugh, don’t tell me you’ve converted to some obscure religion,” Niall groaned, rubbing his forehead. “I don’t think I can handle that. I’m better off not knowing.”

“No! Why can’t you lads stop interrupting? Let me announce my news.”

“ _Our_ news.”

“This is the longest prelude to an announcement I’ve ever heard,” murmured Liam, and Zayn giggled quietly.

“Okay, fine,” said Louis, hands on his hips, “I had a whole speech planned out, but since you guys clearly have zero patience, let’s just – go on, show ‘em, Hazza –“

Harry, who had kept his hands in his lap for the past few minutes, coquettishly flashed a shiny silver band on his ring finger. 

“Oh _wow_ ,” said Zayn, grabbing Harry’s hand for a better look.

“Oh my god,” said Liam. “So you guys –“ 

“Engaged!” Louis trumpeted happily, flinging his hands up, all traces of annoyance erased. “We’re getting married, and none of you are invited to the wedding because you ruined my announcement!” 

“Except you’re actually all invited, because you’re going to be in the wedding,” said Harry, smiling. 

Niall, scrambling to his feet, nearly upended the table trying to hug both of them at the same time. 

“Oof, you’re crushing my lungs,” complained Louis, but he was smiling. Harry pulled Zayn into the hug, and Zayn grabbed Liam’s hand, yanking him in as well. 

There were fewer places more comforting to Liam than these sweaty, hot, cologne-and-hairspray scented group hugs. It had definitely been too long. Something inside him loosened a little. 

“Congratulations,” he said quietly, squeezing Louis’s shoulder. “I’m so happy for you guys.” 

“Aw, he’s gonna cry,” said Louis, but he pressed his face into Liam’s neck. Zayn’s hand was still on Liam’s, and his fingers tightened. Neither of them pulled away. 

After about four more “congratulations” shots and a lot of gratuitous selfies, Louis tugged Zayn up to play darts – probably a terrible idea, but neither of them could be dissuaded – and Harry gave Liam a sly smile. 

“Fancy a cig?”

“Harry, I quit smoking like ten years ago.” 

“Great. Come on.” 

He dragged Liam outside into the warm, clear night. The air had that particular summer smell of bonfires and possibility. Liam leaned against the brick wall, watching Harry light up with his dark hair a curtain over his eye. Then he straightened up, smiling at Liam. Liam smiled back. 

“Congratulations, Haz. I know you’ve heard it enough, but. We’re all so happy for you.” 

“Thanks,” said Harry, smiling like a little kid. He leaned against the wall next to Liam. “I knew it was coming, to be honest. When has Louis ever in his _life_ wanted to go on a _yoga retreat_? As soon as he suggested it, I knew something was up.” 

“There had to be an ulterior motive,” Liam agreed. “Let’s see that ring.”

Harry held up his hand for Liam to inspect, and Liam gave a low whistle under his breath. “Gorgeous.” 

“Isn’t it perfect? Almost makes me think he had some help picking it out.” He gave Liam a meaningful look, and Liam held up his hands.

“Hey, don’t look at me! I don’t know anything about that!” It was a lie. He’d helped Louis pick the ring out a few months ago. 

“Whatever you say,” said Harry, but he was smiling in such a soft, tender way that Liam suddenly felt close to tears. Which was silly. He cleared his throat, trying to get it together. Harry’s fingers brushed the front of his jacket.

“So how long has that –“ he jerked his head toward the door “—been going on?”

“It’s not,” Liam replied dutifully. “Unless you mean Z and Tommo getting drunk and playing dangerous games with sharp objects together, which I think probably dates back like fifteen years or so.” 

“You know what I mean.”

“There’s nothing going on,” said Liam, and he wasn’t lying. 

“He asked about you, you know,” said Harry, meeting Liam’s eyes. “When I saw him in Cannes.” 

“What?” 

“Yeah,” said Harry, shrugging. He looked away.

“You never told me you saw him,” said Liam, stung. 

“I know. I’m sorry. Lou said I shouldn’t tell you.” 

“When was this?” 

“Last year. I ran into him backstage after a show. We went on a little rampage together, it was brilliant.”

Liam’s too drunk to hide his emotions. His voice comes out thick and hurt. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”

“I’m sorry, Liam,” Harry said again. “I meant to, eventually. But – it wasn’t very good timing. You had a lot going on. Layla was in the hospital, and you’d just had that big blowout with Rachael – I didn’t want to complicate anything.” 

Liam was silent for a minute. He didn’t want to care, but his heart ached. He was a little drunk and a little overwhelmed and the ring shining on Harry’s finger was making him think about what could’ve been. 

“I understand,” he said finally, swallowing. “What did he say about me, anyway?” 

“Zayn? I dunno, just wanted to know how you were doing. I didn’t say that you were, like. You know.” 

“Sleep-deprived and insane?”

“A shell of your former self, yeah.” 

“Well, thanks for that,” said Liam sarcastically. 

Harry smiled, squeezing Liam’s shoulder. “I’m just kidding. I hope you’re not mad, Payno. I did mean to tell you eventually. Nobody thought it was a good idea to tell you at the time.” 

“Nobody? How many people knew?”

“Uh, just me and Lou,” said Harry, looking dodgy. 

Liam frowned.

“And Niall,” he admitted. “And your mum.”

“What? My _mum_?”

“I sent her a photo,” said Harry. “Look, I’m sorry! She loves Zayn!” 

That much, at least, was true. Karen had always adored Zayn. 

“I don’t forgive you for any of this,” said Liam, but his heart wasn’t in it. His body betrayed him, letting Harry pull him into a hug. They were quiet for a minute, Harry’s hair pressed into Liam’s face, smelling of flowers and sage and cigarette smoke. Then Harry pulled back, taking a final drag and exhaling smoke into the night. 

“Listen Liam,” he said, flicking the butt into the bucket they kept outside the door. “I don’t know what’s going on in your head, obviously –“ 

“No, you don’t,” said Liam, feeling that they were headed into dangerous territory. 

“—but I just wanted to say that this is the happiest I’ve seen you in a long time.” 

“What?”

“You know,” said Harry, gesturing toward the window where Liam could see Niall now facing off against Zayn. “In there. With him. I haven’t seen you let loose and have fun like this in years.” 

Liam shrugged, uncomfortable, and Harry’s long arm wound around his shoulder. He’d always been uncommonly good at comforting people, and now was no exception.   

“Relax, Liam,” he said in a slow, soothing voice. And normally Liam wouldn’t say anything. Not to Harry, not to anyone. But he was a little buzzed and very confused and it seemed like everything in his life had gone completely upside-down in the past few days. He opened his mouth and it all came tumbling out. 

“It’s unbelievable. Seeing him again, I mean. I just. I can’t even wrap my brain around it. It’s great, it’s weird, it’s scary. I don’t know how to feel.” 

“I’m sure,” said Harry. “Have you guys, um . . .” he trailed off, making a fairly unambiguous hand signal. 

“No,” Liam said quickly, pushing his hand down. “Stop that. Nothing’s happened. Well, almost nothing. I just – I don’t want to get attached, you know? He’s leaving on Sunday, and I don’t know.” 

He sighed, defeated, and said the thing that he hadn’t even wanted to admit to himself. “It was hard enough to let him go the first time.”

Harry was quiet for a moment, watching him, head tilted to the side. Then he said, “Liam, he’s here for a reason.” 

“Yeah, he was shooting a video,” said Liam. “They wanted to use shots of that mine near Brookline.” 

“No, I mean, right now. In there.” 

“Um,” said Liam. “What?”

Harry shook his head, smiling. “Liam, think about it. Actually, scratch that, stop thinking about it so much. Just . . . have fun. Quit worrying about the future. Zayn’s here, you’re here, it’s – nice.”

“It is nice,” said Liam slowly. _But I don’t want to get hurt._

“If you could do anything with him tonight, what would you do?” Harry asked.

“Anything? I don’t understand the question.” 

“Oh, I think you do.” 

Liam blushed, and Harry gave him a lascivious smile.

“This isn’t fair,” he grumbled. “I’m supposed to be the one teasing _you_. You’re getting married to Louis Tomlinson. He put Jell-O in your hair in third grade.” 

“There’s nothing to tease, we’re a perfect couple and everyone’s going to cry their eyes out at our beautiful wedding.” 

“That’s . . . probably true,” Liam admitted. “Although I reserve the right to tell a lot of embarrassing stories at the reception.”

“Granted,” said Harry. “Now let’s get back in there before someone loses an eye.”

 

*

 

As it turned out, nobody lost an eye or any other important parts, although a fair amount of dignity was surrendered as the night wore on. Karaoke was sung and darts were very badly thrown. And at around two in the morning, Liam found himself – somehow, improbably – in the lobby of Zayn’s very fancy hotel. 

Zayn was giggling, swaying against Liam.

“Come on,” he said. His lips tickled Liam’s ear. “Let’s go to the pool.”

“It’s probably closed,” said Liam. “Pools close, right?” 

“I dunno, let’s find out.” 

“You famous types and your disregard for rules,” Liam tried to say, but the words got jumbled in his mouth when Zayn grabbed his hand and pulled him down the hall. Liam’s mum had texted him earlier to stay out all night “if he wanted to”. Her firm tone made him think she knew more than he’d told her, and he wondered which of his nosy, sage-smelling supermodel friends he had to thank for that.

The pool was, indeed, closed. But when Zayn slid his key card into the door, it opened without a problem. 

“Wow, look at that,” he said brightly, and pulled Liam inside. 

“How’d you do that?” Liam demanded. “Did they give you a special key?”

“I have no idea,” Zayn admitted. “I just thought it was worth a try.”

The surface of the pool shimmered silvery-blue in the mostly-dark room. Zayn grinned.

“Come on, Payno.” He stripped off his shirt, and Liam tried not to watch. But how could he help it? Zayn was lovely in the dim light, dark tattoos and smooth skin for miles. Zayn grinned at him. 

“Chicken?" 

“Not a chance,” said Liam, pulling off his shirt. Were they on a security camera right now? Probably. Was this mildly illegal? Almost definitely. Did Liam care? Surprisingly, not really. He kicked off his jeans and hopped into the pool wearing only his boxer shorts.

Zayn splashed in beside him, slipping under the surface and coming up laughing, slicking his hair back. 

“Wow,” said Liam, grinning. “You really have changed. I couldn’t get the old Zayn to go within fifty meters of a swimming pool.” 

“I still prefer the shallow end,” said Zayn, returning his smile. Liam could see the ripples in the water reflected in Zayn’s dark eyes. The water was warm, but he shivered.

“You’ve changed too, you know,” Zayn said, touching Liam’s chest. “I mean, look at these tattoos. Badass.” He traced the largest, an intricate mechanical pattern, over Liam’s collarbone and down his chest. Liam shivered again, and Zayn smiled. 

“Not to mention, I doubt I could’ve gotten you to break into a hotel pool and take your clothes off before now.”

“Well, I couldn’t get you to go to any pools at any time, so we never had the chance to find out.” 

“True,” said Zayn. His face was very close to Liam’s, and he was smiling, which was doing embarrassing things to Liam’s ability to breathe. His hand was still on Liam’s chest, and Liam was suddenly very aware of the warmth of his skin, the proximity of their bare chests.

“I’m glad I came,” he said, quietly, looking up into Liam’s eyes. “I didn’t know, like, how this was gonna go. But I’m glad to be here.”

“Me too,” said Liam. His hand was on Zayn’s waist, somehow, although he didn’t remember putting it there. “Um.” Don’t say too much, Payne, it’s not worth it. Wasn’t it too late to apologize for things that happened ten years ago? “It’s been great seeing you.”

Zayn’s smile broadened and he leaned into Liam, brushing his lips across Liam’s cheek, testing the waters. Liam’s chest tightened, and so did his hands on Zayn’s waist, pulling him in for a proper kiss. He couldn’t help it. 

The kiss deepened, Zayn’s arms snaking up around Liam’s neck. His mouth was cold and sweet. Liam broke it first, breathing hard. His head spun as he tried to get control of his thoughts.

“What are we doing?” 

Zayn laughed quietly, hands still on Liam’s shoulders. “I think maybe we’re just drunk.”

“No, I’m not,” whispered Liam. Not on alcohol, anyway. He’d started drinking water hours ago. But he still felt reckless, out of control. “Are you drunk?” 

“No,” said Zayn, looking up at him with those big, beautiful eyes, and goddammit. Liam should’ve known from the minute he first saw Zayn that this would happen.

He leaned down and kissed him again. Zayn’s lips parted right away, and he made a pleased little “mmf” noise into Liam’s mouth. The water sloshed around them as they moved, the concrete ledge of the pool digging into Liam’s back. It was inevitable, unstoppable. They kissed again and again, fingers winding through each other’s hair, hips slotted together.

“Come on,” murmured Zayn into Liam’s mouth, “come upstairs with me.” 

“Yeah,” said Liam, and his hands couldn’t get enough of Zayn’s smooth skin, his soft mouth. “Okay.” 

It was probably a bad idea, but honestly, he didn’t care anymore. He was sick of living for the future, considering every tiny action from a million angles. He knew it was going to hurt when Zayn left, but hadn’t he known that the whole time? Hadn’t that been apparent since he first laid eyes on him at the reunion? 

Zayn pressed up against him in the elevator, damp and dripping, and they didn’t even make it inside Zayn’s room before their lips were locked together again. Zayn struggled to get his key card into the slot, laughing, and finally they stumbled backwards into the dark air conditioning.

It was fast and hot and messy, a little rough, a little desperate. Hands and teeth and the sweet, addictive danger of sweat-slick skin on skin. 

“God, I want this so bad,” Zayn murmured into Liam’s mouth, gasping as Liam’s lip slid down his throat. Liam couldn’t help it. Zayn had always been a drug for him, intoxicating and forbidden, and god, it had been so long.

It was too good, too much. It was Zayn with his face buried in his arms, saying, “Yeah, yeah, like that,” and Liam, unable to get enough, doing whatever Zayn asked. Wasn’t that always what he did?   Zayn came with Liam’s name bitten-off in his mouth, hair over his eyes, and Liam knew with crystal-clarity that he would remember that forever. 

Afterwards, they lay on top of the sheets in Zayn’s big hotel bed, legs tangled together, laughing about nothing.

“You gonna be okay with this?” Zayn said, rolling over to look Liam in the eye. “In the morning, I mean?” 

“Yeah,” said Liam right away. It was only half a lie. The weight of everything else he wanted to say pressed down on his throat, making it hard to breathe. But he couldn’t put it into words. 

More than anything, especially now, he couldn’t ask Zayn to stay. He couldn’t do it ten years ago, and he certainly can’t do it now.

“Okay, good,” said Zayn, smiling beatifically up at him. He nestled his head onto Liam’s bare chest. “Because I was thinking maybe we could do it again.”

 

*

 

As it turned out, Liam _was_ okay with it. Nobody was more surprised about it than him. He refused to tell Niall any details, obviously, but he had a hickey low on his throat and, apparently, a “pep” in his “step” that Niall claimed only appeared once every five years when he got laid. 

“Whatever,” said Liam, but he was smiling.

He was wiping down the bar, humming a little nonsense song to himself, when he got the text. It was probably Zayn – they had plans to meet for lunch, and Liam was going to say what he needed to say. He’d been practicing it all day. He knew he’d regret it if he didn’t. _Zayn, I’m sorry I let you get on that bus without me. You deserved better._ Nothing else. Quick and clean. Nothing about his feelings, nothing guilt-trippy. The apology he should’ve given ten years ago. 

But it wasn’t Zayn. It was his mom, which was weird. She never texted him at work. Then he opened the text, and his heart dropped. 

**L having bad attack – on the way to the hospital now**

“Niall, I gotta go,” he yelled, throwing the rag into the sink.

Niall poked his head out of the back room. “What’s wrong?”

“Lay’s in the hospital,” he said, heart pounding. That feeling of sick unreality was washing over him, horribly familiar, like this couldn’t possibly be real. Like any minute he would realize that it was just a nightmare, and he could wake himself up if he tried hard enough. “I’m sorry, I –“ 

“Go,” said Niall, pressing a hand to Liam’s arm. “We’ll be fine. Get out of here.”

“Thanks,” said Liam, overcome with gratitude.

The drive to the hospital was a blur of anxiety and too many traffic lights. Ridiculously, Liam felt like this must somehow be his fault. He wasn’t there when he should’ve been. He stayed out all night when he didn’t have to, when he should’ve been home with his daughter.

He burst through the automatic sliding doors of the ER with a sickening sense of déjà vu. Although it had been over a year since he’d last been there, the little details were as vivid and familiar as though he’d seen them yesterday – the wall-mounted TVs, the empty blue plastic chairs, the off-white tile.

“Layla Payne,” he said to the woman behind the counter. She checked something on the computer screen and directed him through the swinging doors to the exam rooms beyond. He signed his name in a blur, fumbled his belongings into a plastic bag, handing it over to the police officer at the door. There were no more texts from his mom, anyway, which could either be a good or a bad thing.

 When he finally got to Layla’s room, his mum stood up and gave him a hug. 

“She’s okay, hon,” she said, face pressed into his neck. 

But Layla didn’t look okay. She was asleep on the emergency room bed, a breathing tube taped over her mouth and an IV drip in her little arm. Liam’s heart seized.

“What happened?” he asked, shaky, tears pooling in his eyes. She’d been fine when he left the house last night, sunny and talkative, flipping through a Peppa Pig paperback on her stomach in the living room. Again, the revelation that this was somehow his fault, that he could’ve prevented this, rocked him like a nasty shock of electricity. 

His mum rubbed his back, and he sat heavily down in one of the chairs lined up against the wall. “She went into respiratory failure again. They don’t know what caused it. She was fine one minute, and the next thing I know, she couldn’t even –“ His mum broke off with a short little half-sob. “Sorry, baby. I feel so responsible.” 

“It’s not your fault, mom,” said Liam automatically. “You know that. What else did the doctor say?” 

“Dr. Ramos hasn’t seen her yet. But the nurse said it could’ve been any number of things. She’s stable, though. They’ve put her on some meds to help her airway relax. The important thing is that she’s going to be fine.”

She didn’t look fine. Liam wished, sudden and ferocious, that Layla would wake up. That he could see her beautiful, happy brown eyes shining with curious intelligence. She lay horribly still against the white sheets.

 “How long are they gonna keep her? Overnight?” He knew his mum didn’t have the answers, but he couldn’t help asking. 

“I don’t know, sweetie,” said Karen, still rubbing Liam’s shoulder. “The nurse said Dr. Ramos would be in as soon as she could. I’m sure she’ll tell us what’s going on.” 

Finally, a few nurses arrived to transfer Layla upstairs to a room. Liam and his mum took the elevator, Liam unable to keep his eyes off of his daughter’s face. An orderly handed them back their belongings, and Liam checked his phone to see a text from Niall.

**How is she?**

**She’s alright** , he typed back. **Need to talk to the doc to know more**

**She’ll be fine. Keep your head up Payno. She’s a fighter like you.**

Liam smiled in spite of himself. For all of his numerous personal flaws, he had managed to make and keep some really good friends. And the steady rise/fall of Layla’s chest was comforting. She wasn’t struggling to breathe – at least, not currently. Liam staunchly refused to think about anything besides that. 

Still, it was hard to shake the thought that he should’ve been there for her while this was happening. It stalked him like a demon at every turn. Layla was already down one parent, and Liam decided to leave her alone for the entire night, throwing caution to the wind. How could he have thought – 

“Baby, it wasn’t your fault,” said Karen out of nowhere. She was watching him with a knowing expression.

“What?” asked Liam, shaken. “How did you –“ 

“I’m your mother, I can read your mind,” she said with a little smile, gripping his hand. “Liam, it would’ve happened whether you were home or not. Don’t beat yourself up. You’re the best father that little girl could have.” 

“I just – I should’ve been there for her,” he said. “I mean, what was I thinking, staying out all night? I’m a dad. I should’ve ridden in the ambulance, I should’ve been there.”

“There was nothing you could’ve done,” said Karen. “You haven’t left her side for a single night in three years. You deserved a break.”

“Maybe, but look what happens when I take one.” 

“Liam, stop,” Karen said in her no-nonsense voice. “There are things you can control, and things you can’t. Stop taking responsibility for the things you can’t.”

“I’ll try,” said Liam, staring down at his old work trainers. His eyes unconsciously trailed back up to his daughter, still asleep on the hospital bed, looking horribly small with the mask over her mouth. He traced the dark circles under her eyes, wishing he could erase them. 

“She’ll be fine,” said Karen. Her eyes were teary but her voice was strong, resolute and comforting. Liam felt a sudden wave of gratitude for her. She’d always been there for him, and he knew he never would’ve stood a chance as a father without her support. 

“I love you, mum.” 

“Love you too.”

“I just thought we were done with all this,” said Liam with a sigh, gesturing at the room. Karen nodded.

“Me too, baby. But we have to roll with the punches. That’s what our family does.”

“I know.” Liam paused, struggling to get his emotions under control. “She was just doing so well.”

“She still is,” said Karen. “Remember what Dr. Ramos said last time? These attacks can go on for years. Look on the bright side – maybe she’s old enough now to take that medication that they wouldn’t give to her before.” 

“That would be nice,” said Liam. “When’s Dr. Ramos gonna see her?” 

“The nurse said it shouldn’t be long.” Karen pulled a paperback out of her purse, settling back in one of the armchairs. They were a lot more comfortable than the chairs downstairs in the emergency exam rooms. 

“You don’t have to stay,” said Liam. “I know you have knitting circle today.”

She gave him a severe look, putting on her reading glasses, and did not deign to respond. Liam snorted a laugh. He caught sight of her watch – it was past twelve, when he was supposed to meet Zayn. 

He pulled out his phone to shoot off a quick text, when the door opened. Karen twisted around in her chair, and Liam was expecting to see Dr. Ramos. But instead, Zayn poked his head in. 

“Hey,” he said, rumpled and handsome, looking sheepish as he closed the door behind him. “How is she? I hope you don’t mind me–“ 

Liam couldn’t say a word. He crossed the short distance and wrapped his arms around Zayn, who sighed against his shoulder.

“I’m sorry, Liam,” he said, muffled against Liam’s plaid shirt. Liam sunk into the hug like a hot bath, shocked and grateful, letting his head drop onto Zayn’s shoulder.

“What are you doing here?” he murmured. 

“Niall told me what happened,” said Zayn, pulling away to look up into Liam’s eyes. “I hope you don’t mind me barging in here, I’m sorry if I—“ 

“I literally could not be happier to see you,” said Liam, voice cracking. Despite the pain of the situation, he felt a small smile spread over his face.

Karen cleared her throat, and Liam blushed, pulling away.

“Oh, sorry,” said Zayn. “Hi, Mrs. Payne.”

“Hello, Zayn,” said Karen, suppressing a smile. “Just so you know, Layla is stable. The doctor is supposed to see her soon.”

“That’s great news,” said Zayn, visibly relieved. “Uh, I brought you guys some stuff. Magazines, sandwiches, I don’t know.” He set the plastic bag down on Liam’s chair. Karen was still smiling at him. 

“It’s really good to see you, Zayn.”

“Nice to see you too, Mrs. Payne.”

“That'll be Karen, to you,” she said, dog-earing the page of her paperback romance. “How long are you in town?” 

“Just a few more days,” said Zayn.

Liam’s heart gave a familiar little twinge, which was stupid. For some reason, it just hurt more to hear Zayn say it out loud. Zayn gave him a little sideways glance, like he somehow knew what Liam was thinking. Could everyone read his damn mind today?

“He was shooting a video for work,” said Liam, overloud. “He’s staying for the summer party, and then he has to go back to being a superstar.” 

“We’re all very proud of you, Zayn,” said Karen, reaching out to grasp his hand. “I hope you know that.”

“Thanks,” said Zayn, clearly touched. “That means a lot to me. I feel terrible that I’ve stayed away for so long.”

“We understand. Don’t we, Liam?”

But before Liam could answer, Dr. Ramos stepped into the room and closed the door. Her long dark hair was pulled back into a ponytail.

“Good afternoon, folks.”

She held her hand out to Liam, who shook it. Dr. Ramos’s firm, calming grip always managed to calm him down. She’d been Layla’s doctor almost since Layla was born, and her very presence gave the room a safe, reassuring quality. She was a constant in the otherwise confusing whirlwind of Layla’s health problems. 

“Liam, it’s been awhile. How are we doing today?”

“Well, not so good,” said Liam, and Karen nodded.

“She’s still asleep. Is there any news?”

“We have the results of her blood test back. And I want all of you to know, first of all, that there was nothing you could’ve done to prevent this attack. It was similar to the ones she had when she was younger.”

Liam didn’t know whether to find this information comforting or not. On the one hand, it was good to know that going to the fair hadn’t triggered anything. But on the other hand – 

“So it was just random? She’s not outgrowing them?”

“We need a little more information, but I wouldn’t say she’s regressing overall. She’s made amazing progress in the last year.”

Dr. Ramos stepped past Liam to examine Layla, putting on her stethoscope. Liam never liked to watch this part. Zayn’s fingers crept into his hand, and Liam squeezed.

“She’s doing great,” announced Dr. Ramos after a few minutes, straightening up. “Her breathing is strong and even. She’s definitely in the clear for now.” 

She picked up the clipboard at the foot of Layla’s bed and made a note. “I know this is hard to believe, but this is actually a good sign for her recovery.”

“How?” asked Liam, unable to help it.

“This is easily the fastest recovery time she’s ever had, for one,” said Dr. Ramos, flipping through Layla’s chart. “I know how scary this is for you, and how it must seem like she’s moving backwards, but her test results are very encouraging.”

Karen was nodding, eyes on the doctor. “So she’s – okay now?”

“Yes, more or less,” said Dr. Ramos. “And she’s stronger than ever. Obviously, these attacks could still happen from time to time. This is the first time she’s been admitted in over a year, which should tell us all something.” She smiled at Liam, who attempted a shaky smile back.

“Trust me, Liam,” she said. “I know it doesn’t seem like it right now, but your daughter is going to be just fine. She _is_ outgrowing it. We’ll need to do a few more tests, just to rule out any complications, but things are looking up.”

Karen smiled at Liam, and Zayn squeezed his fingers. God, Liam was so grateful for their presence. 

“You still need to keep her overnight, though?” he asked, trying not to hover as Dr. Ramos stepped back over Layla’s bed with her stethoscope. He had extensive experience in both hospital visits and hovering, and doctors never seemed to appreciate the latter. 

Dr. Ramos straightened up, writing something else on her pad. “We’ll see,” she said. “Like I said, she’s in stable condition, but we’ll still want to watch her once she wakes up to make sure she doesn’t regress. I’ll send the nurse in to talk to you once the last few tests are done.”

She smiled at Karen and Zayn, shook Liam’s hand one more time, and then she was gone.

“Well, that sounds like good news,” said Karen, breaking the silence. It was hard for Liam to feel anything other than stressed while Layla still had the tube taped over her mouth.

“I guess,” he said. Zayn’s fingers were still wound through his, and he realized belatedly that his hawk-eyed mum had undoubtedly noticed. But in that moment, he didn’t really care.

 

*

 

They cleared Layla for release the next morning, and although Liam had barely slept, he felt wide awake signing the release papers. 

His mum’s kitchen was cramped at the best of times, and it probably should’ve seemed extra-small with three people standing in it. But Zayn’s hand was circled loosely around his elbow, and his mum was making stupid jokes about hospital food, and Layla was asleep on the couch in her Zootopia pajamas with Mr. Teddy tucked under her chin. Liam took a deep breath, and slowly let it out. 

Everything was okay.

“Who wants some real breakfast?” asked Karen. The green numbers on the microwave read 8:21. 

“That sounds nice, mum,” said Liam, leaning against the counter. She was already bustling around, taking out the mixer and setting it on the counter.

“Can I help?” Zayn asked. 

“Well aren’t you helpful. See, now this is why I like Zayn,” said Karen, opening the refrigerator. Zayn held out his hands and Karen loaded him up with cheese, vegetables and butter. “Can you take one more thing?”

“Yeah, hit me,” said Zayn, and she balanced a little carton of heavy whipping cream on top. 

“Zayn’s actually a good cook,” said Liam. “There’s a reason I don’t help out in the kitchen, and it’s that I don’t want anybody to get poisoned.” 

“Excuses, excuses,” said Zayn with a grin. He caught Liam’s eye with a cute little wink. 

“He’s full of them,” Karen agreed. “Hand me that spatula?”

“I can’t believe you two are already ganging up on me,” Liam complained, secretly pleased. “I’ll make coffee, will that get me back on the good list?”

“I suppose,” said his mum, then said something under her breath to Zayn that Liam couldn’t hear, cracking him up. 

It felt nostalgic, magical somehow. Like they’d managed to find an unbroken window into the past, and nobody had to get hurt. 

“You love it,” said Zayn. He met Liam’s eyes, a quick, intimate look.

And in that moment, Liam was struck by how true it really was. How quickly he and Zayn had picked up where they left off, easy and intimate whether other people might’ve felt awkward. But it was a flawed intimacy. A jagged cliff to avoid looking over. They skirted around the edges, studiously not talking about the most obvious flaw – the fact that their lives were not, and could never again be, compatible. 

He put water on to boil for the coffee and then turned away, knowing his emotions were probably written all over his face. “I’m gonna check on Lay.” 

He could still hear his mum and Zayn chatting quietly as they poured and mixed and chopped. It made him feel happy and lonely at the same time. Happy because it was _Zayn –_ Zayn had always made Liam happy in a way he couldn’t describe, ever since they were kids. But lonely because he knew it couldn’t last.

Layla was sleeping in the same position Liam had left her, chest rising and falling steadily. Liam knelt on the carpet next to the couch, gently smoothing down her dark curls. They sprang back into place immediately and Liam smiled.

“Hey ladybug,” he whispered, not softly enough. Layla stirred and her eyes cracked open, that deep lovely brown that made Liam’s heart want to burst.

“Hi daddy,” she whispered, voice cracking. 

“Shh, you don’t have to talk, it’s okay,” he said, stroking her cheek. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.” 

She gave a weak little cough, hugging Mr. Teddy. “I’m hungry.”

Liam laughed and Layla giggled, slow with sleep, bringing Mr. Teddy’s worn ear up to her mouth to suck on.

“Well, it’s your lucky day. I think grandma’s making something special for you.”

“Is it chocolate ice cream?” she asked, yawning. He could tell the sedative was starting to wear off. The usual brightness was coming back to her eyes, and her voice had gained strength. 

“I don’t think so, but that can be arranged,” said Liam. “You want me to get you something?”

“No,” she said, reaching for his arm with her little hand. The universal signal for _stay_.

“Okay,” said Liam. “I love you, bug.” 

“I love you too, daddy,” she whispered, eyes drooping again. 

He sat cross-legged on the floor in front of the couch while she dozed off again, her grip sagging on the elephant. The bright morning sunlight streamed into the room as Liam watched his daughter breathe, thanking every force in the universe that she was okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> stay tuned for PART 3, coming soon(ish). in the meantime, come talk to me on [tumblr](http://www.kate-lusive.tumblr.com)


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